Footsteps Across Lylat: Fallen
by Fatality
Summary: When Andross arises to conquer the Lylat System, the greatest assassin in the galaxy and the four mercenaries of Star Fox must join forces to put a stop to his reign of tyranny. NOW UNDER SERIOUS RECONSTRUCTION.
1. Default Chapter

Prologue: "Deceit"  
  
He crawled slowly out of his mangled Arwing, breathing shallow and raspy. He could feel the blood stirring in his lungs with every breath, could feel the tingling in his hands and feet as he swam in and out of consciousness, but somehow Peppy Hare dragged himself out of his ruined spacecraft and toward the small settlement several miles away. He was beyond any rational thought, didn't care that the town was hopelessly distant in his weakened state, for he was concentrating wholly on the rage burning within him.   
  
Peppy had been betrayed by one of his closest friends, Pigma Dengar, and because of that treachery, the leader of their mercenary team, James McCloud, was dead. He couldn't remember how long Andross had tortured them; he only knew that James had given his own life to save him. All these disastrous events had come about because of Andross, an evil, heartless murderer, and Pigma, the traitor.   
  
A grimace showed through his gray-furred face, and Peppy collapsed.   
  
When he awoke an hour or so later, he was in a warm bed, covered in blankets and staring into the faces of three freckle-faced children and a man he could only assume was their father.   
  
"Doctor's on his way," the older man informed him. The dialect was rough and of northern origin, though, and Peppy decided that he had most likely crash-landed on Zoness-he had headed generally southwest after his escape.   
  
"Forget the doctor," Peppy grunted in his rich Cornerian accent, "I . . . need to get in touch with . . . General Aronius Pepper."   
  
The three children exchanged impressed glances as the father applied a cold compress to Peppy's forehead. The youngest, a red-haired boy, pounded away to fetch his mother as the gray hare slumped back against the pillows, panting, his black eyes anxious and pleading.   
  
"Pepper?" the father clarified. "Head of the Cornerian army?"   
  
Unable to speak, Peppy merely nodded.   
  
The man sighed and leaned back in his rocking chair. What sort of troublesome guest was he dealing with? Upon seeing the trepidation in the hare's eyes, though, he firmed his jaw and rose, dusting his jeans unnecessarily. "Right. I'll getcha a G-Diffuser system right away." Without so much as a question of Peppy's motives, the human strode quickly down the hall in search of a transmitter.   
  
"Are you in Pepper's army?" one of the kids pressed.   
  
"Did you kill the bad guys?" the other asked.   
  
"Kids!" The father had returned, frowning heavily down at his children. Peppy hazily recognized the two-way sight and audio system in the man's arms as a G-Diffuser, a communication device that would get him in touch with General Pepper immediately. "Go outside and play." Then, to Peppy, he asked, "You strong enough?"   
  
Peppy pushed himself upright with shaky arms. "Yep. Can you tell me where we are?"   
  
"Sure 'nuff. Quadrant 16, Zoness."   
  
Knew it, Peppy affirmed inwardly. He flicked the on switch, clearing his throat a few times before beginning. "This is Peppy Hare, Star Fox member. My location is Sector 7, Quadrant 16, requesting audience with General Pepper. Priority one."   
  
The tiny screen in front of him blinked several times, and all at once Peppy was staring into the face of the man who had hired his team-General Pepper of the Cornerian army. He was a muscular, barrel-chested leader, a large brown dog decked out in his red army uniform, his vest lined with many medals and patches of honor in combat. His dark eyes shone with surprise and genuine concern.   
  
"Peppy!" he exclaimed in his deep baritone voice. "What are you doing on Zoness, my friend?"   
  
The hare coughed several times, accidentally spraying a bit of blood onto the sheet clutched tightly in his furry hands. The human's eyes widened with shock, Pepper's with concern. Peppy ignored both; he felt the blackness creeping in on him again. "Star Fox successfully infiltrated Venom-"  
  
"That's wonderful news!" Pepper interjected.   
  
"-Only because Pigma sold James and I to Andross," Peppy finished bitterly. Pepper's visage drastically changed from excitement to sickened apprehension. "If my calculations are correct, sir, we were prisoners on Venom for four days . . . before . . ."   
  
Peppy Hare's eyes clouded and misted with tears as he choked again, coughing up still more blood on the poor man's bedsheet. Pepper groaned quietly in anger and frustration. "Before what, my friend?"   
  
Peppy opened his tired eyes, tears trickling into his whiskers. He had to be strong, though, for James. "James McCloud has been lost, sir," he confessed. "Tortured and killed by Andross serving Star Fox and the Cornerian army valiantly."   
  
Pepper's eyes, too, misted uncontrollably; the mercenary leader had been a trusted ally and a loyal friend in the campaign against Andross. "How did you escape, Peppy?"   
  
"At James's expense," Peppy finished, and the normally unshakable general lowered his gaze a moment in reverent silence.   
  
A minute passed unhindered, the human all the while glancing back and forth between his rather battered houseguest and one of the greatest power figures in the entire galaxy. The transmission was weakening when General Pepper at last gave his orders to the only remaining mercenary he had. "Peppy, as soon as you are well and have acquired an alternate means of transportation, I would like you to return to me. We have much to discuss, my friend, and the rising of Andross will undoubtedly-"  
  
Pepper's voice blurred into a low drone for Peppy; the blackness had finally won out.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Peppy Hare returned to Corneria the following week, nursing five cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder but in good spirits concerning the war ahead. General Pepper met with him later that same day, after Peppy had rested from his long, uneventful journey home. The pair joined together on the bridge connecting the main Arwing hangars with the living quarters of those crewmembers aboard one of Pepper's command ships, the Orion Crusader.   
  
"You seem rather dejected, my friend," Pepper observed as Peppy came into view, wincing a bit with each step.   
  
Peppy glanced up at the wise general, touched at the genuine concern in his eyes. "There is the matter of revenge," he admitted slowly, much to Pepper's surprise. "James was one of my greatest friends, and as such he will most certainly be avenged. Pigma Dengar will meet his demise at my hands, General-of that you may be assured."   
  
Rather than refute Peppy's course, Pepper nodded respectfully and changed the subject. "What of James's son, Fox? He should be told."   
  
"And so he will," Peppy answered. "I am to see the boy this evening. He will know the truth of his father's demise-all of it."   
  
Truly General Pepper was pained when he saw the helplessness in the proud pilot's face! Peppy cared dearly for Fox as he would a son, but how could he hope to replace James McCloud as a father figure in the young boy's life?   
  
He wouldn't even try, Pepper decided. No, Peppy Hare would be the greatest, most supportive friend Fox would ever now, and right now, that was certainly what Fox needed. "go for your meeting with Fox McCloud," Pepper ordered. "You and I will have plenty of opportunities to further our plans for the war."   
  
Peppy bowed low and moved to depart, but stopped short and turned back. "General, sir, I wonder if I could make a request."   
  
"Anything, Peppy. The gods know I am in your debt."   
  
"If you ever form another Star Fox team," Peppy began, "promise me that I will not be forgotten."   
  
Pepper didn't know quite how to respond. Peppy's visage was set and he seemed very firm in his request, but the general simply wasn't sure if the hare could handle the task now that James was gone. Even so, he found himself grinning. "Certainly, Peppy. You will be at the top of my list."   
  
Peppy turned away. Right now, he had more important things on his mind.   
  
~~*~~  
  
All Fox could see were the sunglasses. Outwardly they were just a beat up old pair of black recreational shades, chipped on the side of the right lens and hopelessly bent, but these traits meant absolutely nothing to the young boy.   
  
These were the only link to his past, to his heroic father, James McCloud.   
  
Peppy stared into the boy's pained face as he studied the sunglasses. The scene and the unsettling silence that followed was enough to make him nauseous. "He's in a better place, kiddo," Peppy assured him. "Far away from Andross."   
  
Fox looked up, his eyes shining with resolve and a calm understanding. "I know. I know! And I'll wear these someday and fly just like he did! I'll lead a new Star Fox team, Peppy, only this time, we'll beat that stupid old Andross, won't we?"   
  
The sore hare just smiled and patted Fox's head lovingly. "We sure will, kid. We sure will."   
  
Fox clutched the glasses and hugged Peppy a bit too tightly around the middle for the injured ribs to bear, but Peppy didn't object. Times were looking bleak now, he decided, but for the present there were battle plans, and for the future, there was Fox McCloud. 


	2. Chapter One: Under Siege

Chapter One: "Under Siege"   
  
She was sprinting as quickly as her short legs would carry her, her petit feet in their lavender running shoes kicking up clouds of red-brown dirt as she ran. The other kids had already given up the chase, prefering their games of laser tag and hide-and-seek, but she was detirmined to keep up the pursuit until she had at last become the first child of their group to actually touch it before it got away. Her little black braids bounced about her shoulders, framing a pale-complected face set with a wide pair of faint blue eyes, pupils that reflected excitement and mounting anxiety.   
  
The horn sounded, a shrill sound that cut through her bones. She lunged for it, reaching, and grunted when her outstretched hands felt only cool damp air and she collapsed to the dirt. It puffed away, steadily gaining speed, giving another high-pitched call that seemed to mock her failure. She huffed quietly and scrambled to her feet, waving as it chugged over a final cresting hill.   
  
Celestra Marquette had been mere inches from the gleaming steam engine! It was the Forever Train, the heart and soul of her home planet, Macbeth, sixth planet of the Lylat system.   
  
"Hey, Celest! Did you touch it?"   
  
A couple of the boys ran up to her, rattling away questions as she struggled to catch her breath. "Nah. But one of these days I'm gonna be so fast that I'll ride the Forever Train home!"   
  
"Only because you're too lazy to walk!" one of them exclaimed, and they ran off, howling with laughter.   
  
Celestra, already seven years of age and stronger than any boy she knew, walked the quarter mile back to her flat stoically, holding her chin high. None of them had come so close to catching it, she knew, and she was therefore very proud of herself. Macbeth got around on that train, traded goods and technology by way of steam engine, and it was common knowledge that the train never slept. It was a means of transportation, yet so much more, for it connected its inhabitants in distant towns in many ways. They sent messengers to other towns on the Forever Train, foods of all kinds to buyers in diverse companies, even supplied the Macbethian Air Base with a steady stream of spaceship parts and futuristic weaponry. For the citizens of Macbeth, the train was an essential part of life that ensured their survival; for Celestra, it was an adventure.   
  
The sun was midway through the sky when Celestra toddled home to the flat she shared with her middle-aged parents. As she scaled the steps in their untidy front yard and slipped past the screen door, she met her mother, waiting impatiently for her daughters' return.   
  
Olivia Marquette was a short, stocky woman, built thickly in the shoulders and hips with a skinny waist and legs. The fingers of her hands, though, were unnaturally long and slender, and her unkempt black hair shot with gray masked the intensity of her dark green eyes. Celestra did her best to smile sweetly as her mother scrutinized the new holes in the knees of her jeans.   
  
"As sure as Corneria is good in this galaxy, child, you are filthy!" her mother shrieked, now studying the scrapes on the palms of Celestra's hands. "You been chasin' that train again?"   
  
Celestra lowered her gaze in mock shame. "Yes, mama."   
  
Olivia threw up her hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Lord, child! One of these days you'll be screamin' from under that thing, then I'll have somethin' to worry about!" She shuffled her daughter into the kitchen and called for the water to warm; without further prompting, the faucet flowed and a basin filled with soapy water. "Now you get yourself cleaned up and get out to the hangar, understand? Your daddy's got somethin' new to teach you today."   
  
Celestra quickened her pace at the mention of her father. The hangar behind their flat was the resting place of an Arwing, the special one-man spacecraft used exclusively by fighters of the Cornerian army. Several years ago, Jarius Marquette had served at a base on the third planet of the Lylat system, Fortuna. A few weeks after the Cornerian army (led by General Aronius Pepper) exiled the evil emperor Andross to Lylat's first planet, Venom, Jarius had returned home--with his Arwing only relatively intact. Since his triumphant return, Jarius had been tinkering with the spacecraft, step-by-step fixing it and teaching his only daughter how to fly. Celestra was already quite an impressive pilot--better than many Jarius had served with!--and he knew that as soon as the Arwing was in top working order again, the young girl would pilot it with ease and a natural talent.   
  
"Now, mind you, if you tear another pair of jeans, you won't so much as see that train for a week, you hear?!" Olivia called after her daughter, but Celestra was already long gone.   
  
Behind the unremarkable flat Celestra found her father, shy, quiet, benevolent Jarius Marquette. The man was silently at work at the helm of his magnificent old Arwing, an interstellar ship he had named Legacy. His light brown hair was flecked with more than a few strands of silever, and the unruly patch at the back of his head always brought a grin to the young girls' face. He hadn't yet seen her entrance; his thin yet lithely muscled frame was positioned in the ships' helm in such a way that he was awkwardly sideways. His cool blue eyes focused keenly on the task at his nimble fingers; clearly he had begun a new stage in the reconstruction.   
  
"Hey, daddy," Celestra called warmly up at her father, walking over to stand on the platform balance that would mechanically ascend to the cockpit of the craft. "Whatcha doin' today? Can I help? Sorry I'm late; I had to go--"  
  
"Catch the train today?" her father interjected with an amused grin. Unlike Celestra's mother, who always seemed quite annoyed with her child's many excursions, Jarius took an interest in the little adventures in the girls' life, seeing much of his boyhood in his daughter.   
  
"Not today!" she exclaimed, and her spirits had not dampened in the slightest. "But I was so close I felt the heat comin' off of it!"   
  
Jarius's grin widened considerably and her motioned for the girl to join him in the cockpit for another lesson. She noticed that he had already installed a small viewing screen about six-by-eight inches in dimension, and was in the process of wiring a small command board beneath it.   
  
"You see this contraption?" he began as he twiddled with a pair of wires in the console. "It's called a G-Diffuser system. It's like a two-way communication device with a viewing screen for visual clarity. Pretty neat, huh?"   
  
Celestra nodded, genuinely impressed. For the next half of the day, father and daughter worked in tandem on the wonderful vessel, completely installing the G-Diffuser and the rest of the helm's controls and weapons. The Arwing neared completion.   
  
~~*~~  
  
In the early hours of the evening, when the sun had long passed its zenith and the Solar nebula had finished traversing Macbeth's southern horizon, Celestra wandered back to the hangar to marvel at her father's most equisite work. The Legacy was, in effect, complete, and the only factor that kept Jarius on the ground was the matter of a successful test flight, which would commence the next morning as long as the pleasant weather held out. In the meantime, though, inquisitive Celestra couldn't help but admire the remarkable beauty of the mighty Arwing, so she climbed slowly into the cockpit and took up the controls, even going so far as to fasten the restraints of the craft.   
  
How she longed to switch on the Arwin's main thrusters and give the fighter a go! For hours she sat at the helm, guiding the controls with an almost expert pair of pilot hands and play-shouting at imaginary comrades displayed in the G-Diffuser screen. She could see the asteroid field before her, could clearly distinguish the other Cornerian forces from the evil Venomian pilots from the planet furthest north in the Lylat system. She took aim, shouting orders, repeatedly firing at any enemy craft in her path--  
  
--And Celestra Marquette's surprise was complete when actual laser fire met her ears.   
  
The girl paused a moment, hands trembling slightly, and ceased her mock laser sounds. No, she decided, she wasn't just hearing things--there truly was a laser barrage going on, just outside the safety of the isolated hangar!   
  
Fumbling with the safety restraints of the Legacy, Celestra re-opened the freshly painted cockpit and scrambled out, confusion apparent on her childlike face. She had nearly clambered down to the ground when Jarius, her courageous father, burst in, clutching his arm and moaning loudly.   
  
"Daddy?!" Celestra gasped, wide, icy eyes fixated on his mangled arm in horror.   
  
Jarius eyed his daughter curiously through the pain in his laser-scorched appendage. Beyond any illusions he held for his own survival, Jarius loved his daughter deeply and was willing to sacrifice everything--even his own life--to protect her. But how? he wondered. How could the battered ex-pilot spare his only child from the wrath of Andross?   
  
The injured man stumbled, groaned, and, quite unintentionally, his gaze settled on the specter of his life's work, the Legacy.   
  
A life's work that suddenly seemed to glow with a heavenly light.   
  
Jarius scooped his daughter up with his remaining arm and strode defiantly to the platform balance wired to one side of the Arwing. With a strength that almost frightened his daughter, Jarius Marquette easily swung Celestra into the cockpit of the Legary and swiftly began strapping her in.   
  
"What are you doing?!" Celestra implored desperately, tears welling in her bright eyes, but Jarius didn't answer directly.   
  
"Now listen carefully, sweetheart," Jarius began frantically. "If you shift the controls twice in a particular direction, you'll barrel roll. Up twice will send you into a U-turn, down twice and you'll somersault. With me so far?"   
  
Celestra nodded, not quite understanding why he was telling her this now, of all times.   
  
"Good. Now, sweetie, take off and head southwest at a thirty-five degree angle, and in about three days you'll make it to Corneria. Demand to see General Aronius Pepper; do not let anyone sway your course, Celest! Tell him Andross has come for Macbeth. Promise me you'll do just that, Celestra!"   
  
"Daddy . . . please . . ." Celestra's voice cracked and she swallowed a cry. "What . . . ?"   
  
"Andross has risen again," Jarius explained gravely, another wave of pain causing him to grimace. "Live, my beautiful daughter, and always use that courage and detirmination of yours against Andross. I love you."   
  
Without another word (it would have been lost amidst the drone of constant, rapid laser fire), Jarius Marquette booted up the Arwing's main thrusters, forced the cockpit shut, and blew his daughteer the last kiss she would ever see from her family.   
  
"DADDY!" Celestra howled, pounding at the glass in desperate abandon. "Don't leave me!"   
  
With a resounding roar, the Legacy came to life, crashing through the hangar wall and taking to the fiery southwestern sky of Macbeth. Mere seconds later, the entire area about the house and hangar was pummeled ceaselessly with lethal nuclear bombs, a testimony of the strength of Andross.   
  
~~*~~  
  
For resilient Celestra, manuevering the brilliant Arwing through the scattered Venomian ranks and out of Macbeth's atmosphere was barely a challenge. Half a minute later her trepidation grew considerably when she realized that three Venomian fighter pilots were hot on her tail.   
  
Although swallowing repeatedly to force the petrified lump from her throat and blinking through a face drenched with tears, Celestra's eyes burned with a hatred for the evil Venomians. She had lost everything she truly loved, and she intended to be the biggest problem they had before she died. As she tested the controls, sending the Legacy through a series of manuevers that dodged every laser, Celestra continued to chant her father's last words of Arwing wisdom aloud to herself.   
  
"Barrel roll . . ." Celestra muttered, and her hands worked in tandem, forcing both controls left quickly. The effect was dazzling; her craft went into a tight corkscrew, dizzying the young girl but just in time to deflect the fire of all three assailants.   
  
Wasting no time, the brave girl shifted her controls down as quickly as she could and executed a magnificent somersault. As she turned, all three enemies blew right past her, and with reflexes that would shame many of the Cornerian pilots, dispatched each with on shot.   
  
An even greater concentration of multicolored lasers bombarded the Arwing from all sides, and looking back, Celestra realized that she was being pursued by at least twenty unshakable Venomians. Weighing her options (and she had precious few indeed), Celestra cut hard right, heading for an area of concentrated space debris even as her ship shuddered under multiple enemy fire. The Legacy's shield gauge dropped rapidly as she struggle to remain in control, to shake off her deadly pursuers.   
  
Burying her craft in space debris, Celestra executed one final, brilliant manuever, a U-turn that sent her spiraling back into the wake of her dangerous enemies. Sucking in perhaps that last breath she'd ever take, the last inhabitant of Macbeth squeezed a tiny red button, loosing one of only three bombs her father had equipped the Arwing with.   
  
The radical weapon exploded with the force of ten bombs, right in the midst of the Venomians, destroying every single one of them.   
  
Celestra's head spun uncontrollably, and she pressed on last button as she lurched into blackness.   
  
Autopilot. 


	3. Chapter Two: Aboard Great Fox

Chapter Two: "Aboard Great Fox"  
  
Luck was with Celestra Marquette that long, destructive night. Only that selective, elusive force could have caused her to hit the autopilot button while flying generally southwest.   
  
It was many hours before the broken young girl awoke again, this time very alone and slightly confused as to where she was. It wasn't long, though, before her eyes widened in sheer shock of the heavenly bodies around her.   
  
Out her left window, she could clearly see the red-glowing inferno that was Solar, a radical nebula with temperatures well into the thousands in degrees. Just visible out her right window, the aquatic surface of Aquas Ocean could be seen, a beautiful planet that housed rare water species and was the eighth and last in the Lylat system. Virtually straight ahead, Celestra could make out the dangerous area called Sector Y, a highly treacherous combar zone, one of three in the galaxy.   
  
The first by-product of her unconsciousness that Celestra dealt with was her immediate location; although her flight was generally correct, the Arwing was angled too far west and would not likely reach Corneria. Next, Celestra booted up the G-Diffuser system, sending out a distress signal. "This is the Arwing Legacy, requesting an audience with General Aronius Pepper. Er . . . this is pretty important, I think."   
  
For another hour or so, Celestra struggled with the shifty reception of her transmitter, begging for any contact from anyone in authority on Corneria. Finally, the connection held, and Celestra was relieved to hear: "Legacy, this is Peppy Hare of the mercenary unit Star Fox. State your name and location for tracing purposes."   
  
The lost girl paused. Star Fox was a highly regarded group of mercenaries that was closely affiliated with the general and hailed up and down the Lylat system. Celestra suddenly felt very insignificant indeed. "My name is Celestra Marquette. I'm . . . ah . . . just southwest of Aquas Ocean."   
  
A lengthy paused followed, then she heard, "You're just a kid! What do you want with General Pepper?"   
  
Celestra burst into hysterical tears. "Please!" she begged. "My parents are dead, and my planet's been attacked!"   
  
Peppy's glare of suspicion turned to an alarmed concern. "Where are you from?"   
  
"Macbeth."   
  
Another pause, this one more tense. "How many survivors?"   
  
Celestra struggled to firm her jaw and steady her voice. "Sir, I can't be sure, but I think . . . just me."   
  
Peppy's heart skipped several beats. Andross had only just broken free of Venom, and already in the span of just five days he had successfully infiltrated Macbeth! Looking at the young girl, barely older than seven or eight, Peppy came to understand the gravity of her situation. She should have been dead, anyone else surely would be, yet here she was, sublimating her uncharted terror for some personal, unknown reason.   
  
Peppy found that he admired the child.   
  
"The Legacy is liscensed in the name of Jarius Marquette, a former Cornerian first-class private," Peppy continued, studying the data on a small computer screen near him. "You are his daughter, I daresay?"   
  
"His only child, sir," the young girl began again, wondering where this inquiry was headed and desperately needing some comfort. "My name's Celestra."   
  
The wise hare nodded his assent; all the pieces fell nicely into place. He vaguely remembered serving with Jarius Marquette, as valiant a man as Peppy had ever had the pleasure of meeting, so it only made sense that Jarius would spare his only child's life in exchange for his own. Seeing the newly apprehensive expression surfacing on the refugee's face, Peppy quickly added, "General Pepper's command ship, Great Fox, is en route to Katina from Sector Y as we speak. I will have him alter our course; if he refuses, I will board my Arwing as soon as I may and come get you myself. Keep moving generally south from your current position; we should be at your co-ordinates within the hour."   
  
Celestra was overwhelmed by the pilot's unbridled passion for her situation. "Er . . . what did you say your name was again?"   
  
"Peppy Hare. Great Fox, over and out."   
  
Quite suddenly, the transmission had been terminated. Celestra was utterly alone again, in a vast area of space she had only heard tales about, but never had she felt so secure. Peppy Hare was an amazing pilot, hailed up and down the Lylat system as a member of the famous mercenary unit Star Fox. The renegade group traversed the galaxy as they pleased, dealing blows to supporters of Andross, but they were often hired to serve as personal warriors of General Pepper's army. Her father had told her a tale upon his return from Sector X combat zone a couple of years ago, in which General Pepper and his army had been in dire straits after a Venomian ambush. Just as things were turning ill for the goodly forces, three magnificent pilots had intervened, undoubtedly the members of Star Fox, and the battle had miraculously turned in Pepper's favor. Upon the arrival of Peppy Hare, Pigma Dengar, and the valiant James McCloud, the battle had been won and the Venomians driven back.   
  
As she passed into a more contented sleep than the first, Celestra was convinced that no matter who arrived first, she was definitely in capable, caring hands.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Upon hearing Peppy's heartfelt tale of the last Macbethian native, General Pepper immediately steered Great Fox in the direction of the Arwing Legacy, which seemed to have been once again put into autopilot mode. Although Peppy had great faith in the speed of Pepper's signature command craft, he simply could not chance the girls' capture after such an emotional journey and an exhausting ordeal. So it was that the Arwing Nebulafire, Peppy's official mercenary vessel, first came upon the barely adrift spectacle of the Legacy.   
  
Peppy couldn't believe what he was seeing, and his mind reeled with possibilities. What kind of force, what supreme, all-powerful being, could have brought Celestra all this way in such a depleted state?   
  
No time to think about that, Peppy reminded himself scoldingly. With that, the detirmined pilot electrically latched the Legacy to the rear of Nebulafire and sped away, as easily as possible so as not to disturb his troubled cargo.   
  
In perhaps an hour, Peppy had docked the pair of spacecraft in the main hangar of Great Fox, drawing more than a couple curious glances as he traversed the walkways carrying a dark-haired northerner. The wise hare understood the girls' medical condition; she was beyond exhaustion and sported many bruises as a result of her two days' worth of jostling through unknown territories, so therefore he concluded that General Pepper would have to wait. What the young Marquette needed most now was rest, recovery, and the truth of the situation in Lylat.   
  
Celestra slept for several hours in the safety of Great Fox's hospital wing, under Peppy Hare's wary, watchful eye. Watching her serene face all the while, it occured to Peppy that this poor child had seen more destruction in half a week than several in the Cornerian army could hope to witness in a month. The turmoil of Macbeth tormented gentle Peppy--already two planets had fallen to Andross (Katina had been usurped the day before), and he had lost his closest friend.   
  
How much more crisis could the Lylat system withstand?   
  
Peppy shook the foolish notion from his mind. If he was correct in assuming--and, after being part of a mercenary group for half his life, he trusted his intuition--the worst of Lylat's troubles still seemed far off.   
  
It was later in the evening when Celestra's beautiful eyes peeped open; Peppy missed nothing, however subtle. She stared quietly at the ceiling--contemplating the previous disturbing events, her savior supposed--until she realized she was not alone in the room. Before she could truly begin to panic (this one did not need to feel any more fear!), Peppy stood unthreateningly and held up his hands, crossing to stand beside her cot and smiling disarmingly. They shared a silent, calculative moment then; each was contemplating the status and motives of the other, and for more than a fleeting instant, each wondered under what higher design had they been placed so suddenly in one anothers' lives.   
  
"You're Peppy Hare," she stated bluntly, managing a slight, impressed grin at her superior. "My daddy met you once--he said Star Fox are the most talented mercenaries in all of Lylat."   
  
Were, Peppy thought in lament, but did not yet offer that bit of knowledge. Instead, he smiled approvingly and nodded. "Yes; yes I am. And you're Celestra, the daughter of Jarius Marquette, the only known survivor of the Macbeth disaster."   
  
Celestra's face appeared crestfallen at the mention of her accosted planet, and Peppy inwardly berated himself severly for not being more sensitive. He stood swiftly and bowed low in apology, muttering, "Do forgive me, Miss Marquette. You must, however, show me your courage again, as I reveal to you the truth.   
  
"First and foremost, Andross has escaped his imprisonment on Venom."   
  
Celestra nodded. Her father had told her as much.   
  
"Secondly, Star Fox was there when that occured."   
  
This time, Celestra was quite taken aback. If Star Fox had witnessed the uprising of Andross, why hadn't they stopped him, or at least given him a considerable amount of trouble? "So where are James and Pigma?" she questioned instead. "Are they here on the ship, too?"   
  
Peppy's eyes flashed menacingly, uncontrollably, then his shoulders slumped in guilt and he lowered his gaze. "No, young one; I wish it were that easy."   
  
Celestra frowned; Peppy cleared his throat.   
  
"Two weeks ago, General Pepper gave my mercenary unit the task of secretly infiltrating Venom; our assignment, to discern the source of activity swelling on its surface.   
  
"Upon our arrival, Pigma Dengar betrayed James McCloud and I to Andross himself; I suspect he lives still, in the service of that most evil tyrant."   
  
The dark-haired girl gasped in utmost shock, clapping her graceful hands over her lips to stifle the sound. Peppy was perfectly astounded by the gravity, the emotion, of the child's response. She was caught up in a myriad of danger the likes of which she couldn't possibly fathom, and yet her heart was in the situation, even the finer points of which she didn't understand. Peppy Hare was truly touched.   
  
"James and I were mercilessly tortured for four long days, until James gave his last ounce of strength and courage to aid in my escape.   
  
"I crash-landed on Zoness a day later, where I was fortunate enough to get in touch with General Pepper. In a week I was back on the Great Fox, bringing with me the news that Star Fox had been torn asunder.   
  
"James McCloud was murdered by Andross."   
  
This time Celestra did not utter any sounds of surprise or protest; halfway through Peppy's tale her eyes had misted considerably and now she was indeed crying, great pearly tears rolling from her icy blue eyes to wet her ivory cheeks. The hare regretted very much the retelling--and the pain it caused on both ends--but so great was his respect for the girlt that he felt she deserved the whole truth of the situation. Peppy caved in as Celestra cried softly, even letting a few tears of his own slip by without a word of weakness. After a few minutes, though, he cleared his throat and continued.   
  
"Star Fox is no more, you see, but one day soon General Pepper will find a few new mercenaries--myself included, of course--and we'll begin our organization anew, to the downfall of Andross."   
  
Celestra nodded bravely, and Peppy smiled when he realized that she didn't doubt his claims. The pair lapsed into contemplative silence then, pondering all that had transpired and the courses they would likely take. Only when the girl's stomach growled did she re-engage Peppy in conversation.   
  
"Mr. Hare--"   
  
"Peppy," the Arwing veteran insisted.   
  
"Peppy," Celestra began again, a slight smile breaking her lips like a few silver rays of sunlight in wintertime. "Sorry, sir, but I haven't eaten since I left home, and--"   
  
Peppy nearly slapped himself in the face for such an obvious lapse in manners and hospitality. "Oh, do accept my apologies!" he exclaimed, bowing low again. "Say no more. I'll run and get you something to eat, not to worry! In the meantime--" Peppy glanced to the end of the hospital wing, to one of the many homeless refugees from Katina. "--Why don't you go introduce yourself to my young friend, Bill?" With a warm, comforting smile her way, Peppy walked out, purpose and resolve in his light steps.   
  
At the prompting of her savior, Celestra shifted in her bedsheets and peered around the white curtain shielding her. Sitting on the edge of an identical cot was a young boy, a gray dog no more than two years her senior. He was poised on the edge of the cot, staring forlornly at the tiled floor beneath him and aimlessly wringing his fingers together.   
  
Stretching her legs out in front of her to test their strength, Celestra swung herself easily out of the cot and padded cautiously across the hospital wing to the distressed boy. Even as she slowed, a mere five feet in front of him, he made no moves to acknowledge her presence, showed no signs he even noticed her at all.   
  
"Excuse me," Celestra began uncertainly. "Er . . . you okay?"   
  
The boy glanced up in surprise, and the young girl from Macbeth was thoroughly taken aback by his eyes; deep pools of rich mahogany that, under more joyous circumstances, would undoubtedly shine with their own private inner sparkle.   
  
"Ah," he responded uneasily, and his voice was rough with the rich foreign accent of exotic Katina. "Not really, I reckon, if it's all the same to you." With that vague, monotonous answer, his listless gaze returned to the floor.   
  
Celestra held out her right hand in proper greeting. "I'm Celestra Marquette, just arrived from Macbeth." As an afterthought, she added glumly, "If Macbeth is even there anymore."   
  
"Bill Grey," the boy returned with little interest in Celestra. "One of only eight refugees that escaped the Venomian mothership encircling Katina. And yeah, your planet's still there; Peppy gave me the details."   
  
"What happened on Katina?" the girl began inquisitively, taking advantage of the boy's disinterest.   
  
Bill raised his eyes, carefully studying the intense gaze of the child standing firmly before him. Peppy had shrewdly given Bill the shortened version of Celestra's run out of Macbethian air space, in which she had disposed of at least twenty Venomians. Intently scrutinizing the pale fire of her icy blue eyes, Bill found that she was obviously younger than he, but he could not deny the respect he had for the girls' heroic efforts. He needed strength to pour out such a traumatizing tale, and curiously enough, he found it in the steely, confident gaze. Drawing a rather helpless breath, Bill closed his eyes and retold his story.   
  
"My dad and me heard what went down on Macbeth, and we were kinda restless, you know, wondering what was gonna go down next, so we started prepping my dad's old Arwing. During the night I was kinda dozin' off when my dad started yellin' for me to pack some essentials, and when I asked why, he said a Venomian mothership was en route to Katina with an ETA of six or seven minutes.   
  
"So I run around like a banshee, grabbin' my stuff, and my dad fires up the Arwing right in out backyard. I run out of the house just before it gets liquidated by a Venomian forefront squad. Lasers are comin' at us like acid rain, and my dad shoves me outta the way, takin' at least six in the chest. He--" Bill looked up, eyes brimming with guilt. "--He died before he hit the ground.   
  
"So what am I s'posed to do but take the Arwing and get outta there? Figure dad didn't give his life away to see me surrender to Andross! I blazed through Katinan air space, blastin' Venomians when I can, and I hooked up with some veterans out of Pepper's army. We came here; we couldn't think of any other place to go."   
  
Celestra stared, obviously shocked. "How old are you?"   
  
"Nine and one half. You?"   
  
"I'm only seven."   
  
An abrupt and uncomfortable silence fell over the medical ward, in which Celestra sat precariously on the edge of Bill's cot, relaxing only when he scooted to the side to make room for her. After allowing herself a few minutes' time to compose herself (and inconspicuously brush away a tear or two), Celestra rewarded Bill with a full recounting of her escape from Macbeth and her journey to Great Fox. Comfortably shielded by the shadows of the doorway, Peppy Hare smiled at the simple innocence of it all. He had not missed a single word, and the kids' meals were still piping hot.   
  
"So what are you gonna do when you get outta here?" Bill pressed. He seemed much more at ease now that his retelling was complete.   
  
"I really don't know," admitted Celestra. "I haven't thought about it. Do you have any plans?"   
  
"Sure do," Bill beamed. "I'm gonna be an assassin."   
  
Celestra stared. "A what?"   
  
"An assassin. It's a person who gets hired and paid to track down certain people and kill them. Pepper could use a good assassing working against Andross."   
  
Celestra's eyes were wide. It was difficult for her to fathom what she believed to be such a grisly, unorthodox profession.   
  
"You could be one too, y'know," Bill continued, slinging an arm about her shoulders. "You've already got the skill."   
  
If Celestra's eyes opened any wider, they would simply roll out of their sockets. Peppy chose that time to make his presence known, and the children ate their meals in a tense silence. Afterward, not a word was spoken of Andross, the seemingly inevitable war, or a career as an assassin.   
  
Peppy didn't know if he should be pleased or disappointed by that. 


	4. Chapter Three: Mission Control

Chapter Three: "Mission Control"   
  
12 YEARS HAVE PASSED . . . .  
  
"This is the Arwing Rage of Macbeth; location, south by southeast of Sector Y combat zone. Request audience with assassin Bill Grey; location, Katina."   
  
The G-Diffuser visual screen shimmered with a faint blue light before the handsome twenty-two-year-old face of Bill Grey appeared. It was exceptionally early in the morning for poor Bill; he was accustomed to accomplishing missions in the deepest hours of night and snoozing the daylight hours away whenever possible. Upon recognizing the inquirer, his deep red-brown pupils took on a much different light, caught somewhere between amusement and disappointment. He yawned wide, stretched, and succeeded in changing his displeasure into words.   
  
"Why do you always leave without sayin' good-bye first?"   
  
At first he got no real response; the person to whom he was speaking seemed to be calculating the distance and time to their destination.   
  
"Celest? Did ya call me to ignore me?"   
  
Assassin Celestra Marquette, nineteen years of age, managed a steely grin and tightened the band of her long black ponytail. "I got called away on business. Things are easier this way."   
  
Bill crossed his muscular arms defiantly across his bare chest (her transmission had only just awoken him) and snorted derisively. "For who? For me or for you?"   
  
Celestra waved a deceivingly delicate hand in dismissal. "For both of us. I've worked alone since age thirteen; I don't have the time nor the patience for a partner, and you need to sleep sometime."  
  
"I assume you called me for a better reason than to explain your many excuses for leavin' again?"   
  
Numerous numbers and tactical coordinates flashed upon the main vid-screen of the Arwing; Celestra would meet no unwanted visitors for the remainder of her journey and would arrive in less than two hours. "I called to give you a run-down of my newest job."   
  
"Ooh, this should be interestin'." Bill sat back comfortably and smiled wide. "Right, give me the good news first, it's still pretty early."   
  
"The good news is that I've been hand-selected by General Pepper for this particular mission, and he's willing to pay me a very handsome sum indeed."   
  
Bill moaned in envy. "And the bad?"   
  
"There's loads of bad; are you sure you want it all?" Celestra inquired.   
  
Bill nodded. "Might as well hit me with it all at once while I'm feelin' brave."   
  
"Okay, here goes. I'm on my way to Corneria for mission control, even though I'm already well-informed concerning the movements I need to take: I get to march all the way across Lylat so I can attack Andross head-on. Oh, and, um, apparently I'm not working alone."   
  
The Katinan gasped in mock surprise, and Celestra scowled at him until he asked, "So who are you workin' with, then?"   
  
"The four mercenaries of Star Fox."   
  
Bill bit his lower lip to silence any shrewd comments. Pepper was asking a bit much for Celestra Marquette, of all people, to team up with anyone and accomplish anything. Secondly, the mission in question would undoubtedly be long, tedious, and highly dangerous; many of the planets of Lylat had become hostile since Andross's escape twelve years previous. Celestra was arguably the most deadly and skilled assassin in the entire galaxy, but even for her this assignment seemed unusually suicidal. "Interestin' enough. What's your ETA?"   
  
Celestra shrugged and commanded her Arwing into autopilot mode; it was a straight run to Corneria from her current position. "An hour and forty minutes maximum." As an afterthought, she added, "You don't think I can handle it?"   
  
Bill smiled warmly and even chuckled a bit. "You can handle damn near everythin', girl. You're just not the greatest with teammates. Gonna off your allies and the bad guys?"   
  
"You can go to hell. See you soon, Grey."   
  
"Take care, Marquette."   
  
Bill's in-house G-Diffuser disconnected from Celestra's signal and the screen went blank. The male Katinan assassin absently wrestled into a t-shirt, contemplating what he had just heard.   
  
Celest and Star Fox? It was an odd, questionable match, but undoubtedly ruthlessly effective, Bill decided. He wished he could get a piece of Andross as well, but he hadn't been hired and Katina housed a newly-ordained frontline base for the Cornerian army, in which he played a major role. How much time would pass before their paths crossed again? Six months? A year?   
  
Bill escaped into the bedsheets of his room, deciding the problem could be solved after a long, undisturbed nap.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Twelve years had done nothing to quench the fires of revenge in the heart of Peppy Hare. The old hare's eyes still glimmered with the love of battle that had always been apparent on his face, and it only intensified when he and Pigma Dengar clashed in battle.   
  
It had been a wild, uneasy ride for Peppy, who was once again a Star Fox mercenary. When Fox McCloud (now twenty-one years of age) had reached the age of fourteen, Peppy had petitioned for a new Star Fox squad to resurface, and after a drawn-out struggle had won the right to make Fox the commander. The pair of them had chosen two additional colleagues that each had something to offer and that they knew quite well. Slippy Toad was only thirteen, but already he could fly any Arwin with ease and was the most impressive technician Fox had ever seen. Their other member, Falco Lombardi, was as brash, sarcastic, and hard-headed at age twenty as he had been four years previous, but was arguably one of the greatest mercenaries in all of Lylat. The four had accomplished much together, holding to their friendship and unending trust, and were wanted by every Venomian in the galaxy. The four were hardly surprised, then, when General Pepper hired them to launch an all-our war against Andross. But they would be joined, Peppy knew, by the most skilled assassin the Lylat system had ever known: Celestra Marquette, who piloted the most Venomian-hated Arwing, Rage of Macbeth.   
  
Peppy stared contemplatively out a window of Great Fox, Pepper's command ship, lost in his memories. He remembered vividly the day when he had rescued a young, innocent Celestra from innerspace, and wondered vaguely just how much she had changed. Fox knew well the heroic tales of Celestra's many exploits throughout Lylat, but how would the assassin cope working with others? It was widely known that the girl despised teamwork--she had all but isolated herself from everyone since the fall of Macbeth--but Peppy could not lie to himself; he missed her dearly, and couldn't wait to see her.   
  
"Hey, Peppy!" came the unusually high-pitched voice of Slippy Toad. "Looks like your friend is going to be on time after all."   
  
"I never doubted her," Peppy admitted, Cornerian accent thick as ever. "Can you give me her ETA?"   
  
"Sure can," said Slippy, tinkering with the controls of his technical computer. "Fifteen minutes and closing fast." Slippy re-adjusted the red baseball cap atop his sleek green-skinned head, frog eyes boggling at the screen. "Are we going to like this girl, Peppy?"   
  
Peppy sighed. "Falco won't; he doesn't care much for anybody too much like him, and if Celestra hasn't changed much she'll be proud and spiteful. She's used to working alone." "Talkin' about me again?"   
  
Falco Lombardi was every bit of six feet tall or more; he had a very strong, confident air about him which only intensified in his dark eyes. He was very muscular, a by-product of his grueling work-out program, and had a lean, fit body covered in sleek, royal-blue and red feathers. The pride in his facial expressions and movements was wrought of a hundred, a thousand battles, all of which he had triumphed.   
  
Peppy nodded and chuckled. "Yep. Sure am."   
  
Falco scowled and took a seat, kicking his gray boots up on the ledge in front of him and leaning back comfortably. "You're lucky we're on the same side, old man."   
  
All three shared a laugh at Peppy's expense, but it almost didn't sound natural and died away almost instantly.   
  
Falco glanced out the rectangular window before him, surveying the not-so-distant planet of Corneria. The cheery blue surfaces of the planet and the cottony clouds were punctured every so often by minor explosions of blood-red and pink. His nerves prickled a bit at the thought of war, and he began, as he always did when he became anxious, to preen the feathers of his right shoulder. Slippy, likewise, was displaying signs of anticipation; his tongue was lolling lazily out of his mouth and he had turned his baseball cap backwards. Peppy said nothing, merely reached one hand up to the top of his head and fiddled with the fur of his left ear.   
  
Their nervous habits were interrupted, though, as Star Fox commander Fox McCloud entered their designated meeting room with ROB, the high technician of Great Fox, on his heels. He was a stocky, well-toned brown fox with gentle yet alert brown eyes. His shoulders were broad, and his visage seemed ever-thoughtful, always focusing on the tasks upon him. As always when the companions looked upon him, their fears disappeared in an instant.   
  
"ROB, I still need a scan of the eastern face of the planet," Fox was explaining as he haphazardly strapped a weapons belt about his waist. Then, looking excitedly around at his team, he remarked, "Glad you all could make it."   
  
"Are you kidding?" Falco asked incredulously, leaning back in such a way that his seat rested only on its rear legs. "Do you think we'd miss the big shindig?"   
  
"There's an image," came Slippy's voice as he monitored the scans of the four mercenary Arwings and checked for any complications at a corner console. "Falco at a big opry house, wearing a cowboy hat and jeans, trying and failing to two-step."   
  
Fox and Peppy linked arms and pranced about the briefing room fow a few moments, humming a catchy country tune as Falco threw a two-liter of soda at Slippy's back. The room exploded into laughter, Falco even joining in at the end of it all, halted only when ROB summoned a holographic image of Rage of Macbeth and carefully surveyed its position.   
  
"Miss Marquette should be with us momentarily," ROB stated monotonously. Peppy broke from Fox, practically sprinting for the window before Falco, who scowled at his now blocked view.   
  
"ROB, I'm picking up an incoming transmission," Slippy put in, and the AI of the cruiser connected with signal. A raven-haired, pale blue-eyed teen with a firm, businesslike expression on her face stared at the mercenaries from the main visual screen.   
  
"Great Fox Artificial Intelligence, this is Rage of Macbeth, requesting permission to dock aboard this vessel in t-minus two minutes and twenty-eight seconds," Celestra began, trying to focus wholly on the AI and not the four others behind him.   
  
"Permission granted," the robot acknowledged. "Hangar eleven is open for your docking purposes."   
  
"Over and out." The screen darkened.   
  
"Cheery one, isn't she?" Falco remarked sarcastically. Peppy turned and fixed him with a look so foul that even the cocky avian paled under it.   
  
"She's probably the best assassin for ten galaxies aside," Fox cut in hurriedly before Peppy could intervene, "and from what I've heard she does tend to be a bit--reclusive." Peppy turned his back on them all. "You would be too if you carried as heavy a burden as that child has for the past twelve years," he murmured under his breath.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra lowered her Arwing cautiously into the eleventh hangar of Pepper's command ship, idly clipping her long mane of ebony hair up at the back of her neck and shutting the craft down with a combination of buttons. As she vaulted out of the cockpit and padded down the docking bay to the nearest corridor, a voice accosted her from a speaker nearby.   
  
"If you will follow the corridor around to the left, you will find the briefing room at the end of the hall, Miss Marquette."   
  
The calculating assassin did not even slow her confident stride at ROB's instructions; quite the contrary, she merely yawned and continued on her way, seemingly at ease. Her hard black knee-high combat boots clacked noisily down the passageway now, and such was the magic residing within them that they only announced the level of noise that Celestra telepathically bade them to. For the mercenary team, watching her approach closely on the visual screen in the center of the briefing room, the expression of calmness, even boredon, on the assassin's face was extremely unnerving.   
  
Slippy clicked the screen off just in time as the assassin strode through the open door, casually dropping a knapsack to the floor and locking gazes with each of them in turn. It was a talent she applauded herself for, reading facial expressions, an it worked wonders for her this time: Peppy was delighted to see something of a daughter again, Slippy was skeptical and rather intimidated; Fox, though, displayed only a mild respect. Celestra's eyes settled at last upon Falco.   
  
At first his expression seemed closed, unreadable, but she soon discovered that this wasn't so. Far from conceding any respect or fear, Falco's dark eyes only reflected his loathing and even what could have been hatred. They shared a long, simmering stare, full of intensity, brimming with negative feelings.   
  
Fox swiftly cleared his throat.   
  
"I think I speak for everyone when I say welcome, Celestra Marquette, to the Great Fox, the basis of all the comings and goings of our squad. My name is--"   
  
"--Fox McCloud, Slippy Toad, Peppy Hare, and Falco Lombardi," Celestra cut in, pointing to each in turn. "I have heard much of the lot of you, commander, and I expect that we will not requite any introductions. I have been looking forward to this meeting."   
  
Peppy's eyes brightened and Slippy visibly relaxed, but Falco's posture and gaze did not falter for even a second. He recognized the lie behind her indifferent facade.   
  
"As have we all," Fox answered, coming forward to shake her hand, which she accepted with only a mild interest. Slippy greeted her with a neutral demeanor; Peppy, though, grinned and threw his arms about her as she stopped to return the embrace, even though her set visage changed not at all.   
  
"Last time I saw you, you were a hell of a lot shorter," Peppy commented, and Celestra laughed briefly, gazing into the hare's bright eyes. "But look at you! Practically grown up, and an assassin to boot! You and Bill . . . I'll never forget it. The pair of you made quite the impressive little tag team during your years at the Academy--Pepper and I will never forget it. Impressive, of course--but rather demanding. You stole every spare second of our time with your countless antics! Ah . . . no matter. You and him have become everything you promised us you could be."   
  
Celestra returned his embrace, but inwardly she wanted to hold him out to arms' length and strictly instruct him never to touch her again. As she released him, she turned and nearly plowed Falco over, who had risen silently from his chair and crossed the room. She marveled a bit at his stealth--not many could sneak up on Celestra Marquette, after all--and his agility for one so tall. He stared down at her from fully three inches her senior, but neither did she intimidate easily.   
  
"Welcome aboard," he muttered, holding out a hand to her, which she took. They shook for quite some time, each struggling to penetrate the others' defenses, but to no avail.   
  
Again, Fox cleared his throat.   
  
"We're expecting mission control from the general soon," he informed her. "As you will be aboard Great Fox for a prolonged period of time, please consider it your home. ROB will show you your living quarters after we've been prepped for our first mission."   
  
'Home?' Celestra questioned inwardly. 'Difficult. I've got about five seldom-used ones; this one shouldn't be much different.' Instead of voicing her sarcasm, Celestra merely nodded and, ignoring the other empty seats in front of the viewing screen, seated herself on the large windowsill. Fox glanced sidelong at Falco in an attempt to win his support, but the avian scowled, shook his head firmly, and re-seated himself, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.   
  
Barely a minute later, ROB announced that General Pepper was prepared for the briefing and had a transmission on standby. Fox accepted the com call, and the five space pilots turned their attention upon the viewing screen, which now reflected Pepper's eager face. "It's about time you arrived, Celestra," the general began. "I have already spoken with Bill this morning; I was under the impression that you had departed from Katina several hours ago."   
  
The mercenaries glanced as one to the assassin, who shrugged in dismissal and also crossed her arms. "You seem to be under the impression of many things, sir," she remarked coolly. "The difference between your assumptions and the actual truth could probably fill several books. Oh, and I would very much appreciate it if you didn't monitor my movements so closely, general; I have little use for babysitters."   
  
Fox's eyes widened, and Slippy whistled low under his breath. It wasn't every day that you heard someone contradict the general of the Cornerian army.   
  
"I must be brief," Pepper began again; he understood well Celestra's objection of her pairing with Star Fox and had, in effect, expected her ridicule. "Even now the Metgiacon Department is surrendering to Venomian forces. We're counting on the five of you to launch the primary strike and re-acquire our main offensive base."   
  
Fox and Celestra marked well the general's fleetin reference of the Megiacon Department. The chain of skyscrapers was government-affiliated and was Corneria's main supplief of technology and weaponry. Behind them, Pepy had booted up a pair of holographic display grids, one detailing the main offensive base for the army, and the other mapping out he entire Metgiacon empire.   
  
"We're looking at roughly two hundred enemy craft already deep within the outer perimeter of Metgiacon," he explained, "and at least twice that moving into position around the base."   
  
Falco leaned forward, interlocking his fingers calmly. "Piece of cake. We slip by Venomian intelligence, sneak into Metgiacon, bust out the heavy artillery, hit the base, save the day, and maybe hit the bar in time for happy hour."   
  
Slippy ducked his head to stifle his laughter; Fox scowled fiercely at the pair of them. "It's never that easy, Lombardi," he pointed out, struggling to calm himself. "We'll have to split up for awhile; we don't have enough time to hit both places as a full force." The commander turned back to General Pepper. "Sir, with all due respect, I suggest you terminate this transmission and take refuge as soon as possible."   
  
"Understood. We're counting on you." With that, Pepper was gone, leaving his hired group to ponder their first move.   
  
Celestra moved to join Peppy at the holographic grids, enlargening the maps of Metgiacon. "Fox, I think your suggestion of sundering forces is a very crafty idea," she began. "If you look at the positions of the enemy, you'll notice that Metgiacon is in more immediate danger; Andross would expect us to aid them first. However--" Here she tapped the grid of the army base, pointing out the seemingly defensive posture of the enemy forces. "--Once we hit Metgiacon, the Venomians will likely close in around the base and force Pepper into a quick surrender."   
  
Fox nodded, impressed at Celestra's insight. "We need a distraction of some kind. One that can allow us to get Pepper out of the base unseen."   
  
"Exactly," the assassin confirmed, face still rather impassive. "I will infiltrate Metgiacon, but I'll need a technician."   
  
Over at the Great Fox mainframe with ROB, Slippy put up a hand. "Then I'm your man. What do you need?"   
  
Celestra held up a hand, retreating to the back of the room and collecting her knapsack. "I'll explain on the way. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I think I have yet an additional twelve minutes to be devoid of your presence." With that, she swept away down the hall, ROB at her heels. Fox scratched his chin thoughtfully.   
  
"I already can't stand her," Falco admitted, now pacing the room and casting occasional glances out the window at Corneria.   
  
"Me neither," Slippy agreed.   
  
Fox glanced up at Peppy, but the hare's back was to him. That way, none of his colleagues could see his expression of disappointment. 


	5. Chapter Four: The Fourth Planet

Chapter Four: "The Fourth Planet"   
  
"Are you crazy, Celest?! You don't just waltz into Metgiacon and hack their computer mainframe! You're already outnumbered, what, one to one hundred?"   
  
Celestra pulled a gray tank top on over her sportsbra and eyed Bill calmly through the G-Diffuser screen. "Listen Grey, if I can't get out of working with these clowns, I might as well use them to my advantage. If Slippy is as good at computers as Fox insists he is, then I cam reclaim Metgiacon single-handedly while their mainframe is down." Seeing she had Bill more worried than convinced, she continued, "Look, it's only a matter of time before Pepper stations us on Katina, so the quicker we liberate Corneria, the quicker you get to see me."   
  
"And the consolation prize is--?"  
  
"--That if you don't quit talking and agree with me, I'll make sure you get fired. Pepper hired me, remember?" Celestra finished dryly.   
  
The faintest of haggard smiles found Bill's face; he was exhausted from working with the frontline base lieutenants, but had still avoided sleep to accept his best friends' call. "Okay, leave my job outta this! Go forth and conquer. Just make sure you kill the guys on the other team, capiche?"   
  
Celestra grinned and waved to him. "Yeah, I know. We've been through this."   
  
~~*~~  
  
When Merrick, chief correspondent for Venomian forces infiltrating Metgiacon, gave the order for his men to shift into a defensive posture about the skyscraper, he wasn't too worried that his actions weren't exactly matching Andross's designs. He didn't care much that he was disobeying specific orders, and he hadn't even bothered stopping to ponder the dire consequences of his behavior.   
  
He knew only that Star Fox and the assassin Marquette were en route to spoil their plans, and that filled him with fear.   
  
"Seal off all the elevators and main stairwells!" Merrick dictated loudly, swiftly traversing the hallways spiraling through the ground floor. "And make certain that we're covered on the ground, these guys are the best!"   
  
Barely fifteen minutes previous, the usurpers of the vast Metgiacon empire had been almost bored with their seemingly uneventful takeover; they had suspended all exports of weaponry to outer Corneria and the frontline base on Katina, and had even succeeded in drawing the primary assault away from the army base, where even now General Pepper was being backed into a corner. What they hadn't planned for was the sundering of the offending forces, for while Celestra and Slippy were no doubt wending their way toward Metgiacon, Fox, Falco, and Peppy were readying to strike the base itself, in hopes of delivering the general to safety.   
  
Now the enemy within Metgiacon was falling into complete disarray, all but tripping over themselves to follow Merrick's half-hearted orders. Rather than remain in their lookouts on both the ground and in the sky, the Venomians shifted into a completely ground defensive, leaving the highest floors only meagerly guarded.   
  
Merrick had never met Celestra Marquette and Slippy Toad personally. He could not know that no matter what he did, he would lose.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"So when are you going to let me in on this brilliant plan of yours?" Slippy questioned peevishly.   
  
Celestra subconsciously tightened her hands about the joysticks controlling her Arwing and did well to hide her annoyance. Didn't these guys ever explore their options before launching any attacks? Doing her best to remain composed, the assassin asked, "Slippy tell me something--in all of the Metgiacon command center building, do you happen to know where all the computer systems are located?"   
  
"You bet," said Slippy, wondering vaguely how this was relevant. "Floor fifty-nine, the topmost section of the complex."   
  
"Very good," Celestra remarked, and didn't offer any more information right away. The radio silence between her craft and Slippy's, Acid Rain, soon wore away at her patience, though, and with a sigh she elaborated.   
  
"I'm sending the enemy formations to your computer now. Study them and tell me what you see."   
  
A holographic map of Metgiacon displayed itself on Slippy's G-Diffuser; outlined in great detail were the positions of every Venomian fighter within or guarding the perimeter of the area. Slippy's eyes perused the defensive postures down to every last detail, then re-engaged his accomplice in their battle plans.   
  
"Very heavy on the ground force," he observed. "What little of their forces that remain inside are guarding the lowest levels."   
  
Celestra nodded her approval, thankful that Slippy wasn't as dense as she had anticipated him to be. "Very good indeed. And have you spotted the one tragic flaw in their entire setup?"   
  
Slippy gasped almost immediately, positively stunned. "They've left the mainframes vulnerable!"   
  
Tapping several more buttons on her G-Diffuser console, Celestra brought up a skematic of the highest floor for Slippy's benefit. "The mainframe can only be physically accessed from this location, and none of their guys are in any position to defend it."   
  
"Yeah, but--" Slippy began uncertainly; surely Celestra had a point?   
  
"Listen, kid," Celestra interjected heatedly. "Once we open fire on Metgiacon, the guys in charge will send transmissions to Pepper's base, alerting the rest of the force. Once they have confirmed that we're in no position to retaliate, they'll close in on Pepper and this war will be over before it's even begun.   
  
"So my next question is--how good of a computer hacker are you?"   
  
Slippy's already bulging eyes widened considerably as he considered this last question. "You want me to hack the Metgiacon mainframe?!"   
  
"Yes I do," said the assassin coolly. "That is, if you can handle it."   
  
"What does this have to do with rescuing Pepper?!"   
  
This time Celestra chuckled, a soft, wicked sound that sent an icy chill down the mercenary's spine. "It's my plan, kid. Once we hack their systems, their aircraft will tell them that Metgiacon's defenses have been breached. They'll have no choice but to head up to the mainframes and get them back online--if they can--because without that system, they can't send transmissions."   
  
"So the enemies at the base won't know when it's safe to move in on the general!" Slippy breathed.   
  
"Exactly," Celestra confirmed. "That will cover your three friends as well; they'll remain unnoticed until we give them the green light." The pair weaved through a thick copse of trees, remaining concealed as Metgiacon loomed nearer. "So are you in? 'Cause there's only one right way to do this."   
  
Slippy bit his bottom lip fervently, still studying the 3D map of the fifty-ninth floor of the Metgiacon empire. Celestra's plot was undeniably brilliant, he had to admit, but how many people had attacked Metgiacon's computer systems and lived to tell about it afterward? It would be a critical first strike against Andross, but--   
  
"Beyond your talents, eh, Slippy?"   
  
The mercenary scowled. "It most certainly is not."   
  
And he began uploading a computer virus.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Several miles away, Falco Lombardi was drumming insatiably on the dash of his Arwing's helm. He, Fox, and Peppy had been cruising inconspicuously high above the Cornerian army base, waiting tensely for any word from Celestra or Slippy concerning the situation at Metgiacon. Regardless of Fox's pleading, Celestra had slyly refused to let him in on what she was planning, so naturally the leader of the Star Fox mercenaries was more than a little on edge.   
  
'Guy's got a good reason to be nervous,' Falco thought to himself, setting his spacecraft, MeteoRiot, on a rather sluggish autopilot and humming absently to his makeshift beat. 'Of course, if it was me, I would've beaten the whole scheme out of her . . . '  
  
So it was that Falco found a new way to pass the empty minutes by; high above the base, he toyed with the prospect of learning the assassin's motives using brute force.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra watched Acid Rain land lightly upon the rooftop of the Metgiacon skyscraper from the shadow of several slender birch trees. She had landed her Arwing unnoticeably within the deepest boughs of the forest and had trekked the last mile to the lofty structure on foot. The assassin was well armed for the crucial tasks ahead of her; on a utility belt encircling her narrow waist sat a holstered pair of liquid plasma laser guns, a grappling hook, a coil of rope, and two deadly switchblades. Nestled within her magical boots were a pair of butterfly knives for close combat, and she had donned a miniscule communicating device that was connected to the same frequency as Slippy's G-Diffuser. Celestra was nearly four hundred feet from her destination now, poised excitedly and awaiting Slippy's first signal.   
  
Ten nerve-racking minutes slipped by before Slippy managed to contact her. "The virus is attacking the mainframe now. Once the primary defenses have been liquidated, I'll hack the rest of the system."   
  
"As foolproof as I had planned," Celestra murmured to herself, then she terminated the transmission and continued her stealthy advance through the swiftly thinning trees. To Merrick's credit, he had been intelligent enough to post sentries at intervals of fifty feet all along the inside of the treeline, but Celestra wsn't particularly concerned. Her black boots, although crushing twigs and leaves, made not a sound at her mental command, and she was a mere twenty steps away from the first guard before he had even sensed her presence. At the first sing of unease, Celestra stilled her approach, scanned her surroundings, and effortlessly scaled a large beech tree that, conveniently enough, possessed serveral sturdy branches that hung just above her target's head.   
  
She was reaching for one of her switchblades when one of her feet brushed against an adjacent branch, causing the leaves to rustle ever-so-slightly. Cursing her carelessness, the assassin leapt down from her perch, tackling the Venomian flat and wrestling him into submission. Her communicator issued a shrill beep just as she drew the wicked blade across the unfortunate man's throat.   
  
"Tell me that you've hacked it, and I'll leave you alone for awhile," Celestra whispered, wiping the knife on her victim's vest and melting back within the cover of the trees.   
  
Slippy sighed in resignation. "The ground forces are filtering back into the lower levels. As soon as they've re-activated the elevator systems, they'll all relocate to the highest floors and back themselvess into a corner."   
  
"Meaning what?"   
  
"The system is down. I can sustain it long enough for you to make your way to the top floor, provided that I have no cyberspace intrusions."   
  
"Stand by for further instructions," Celestra ordered, then she once again terminated the link and darted out of the trees. Her footfalls were so silent that she sprinted the final short distance into Metgiacon's main entrance without attracting any attention from the remaining scouts. She pivoted sharply to the right once inside, crouching to the ground and removing the handheld plasma guns from her belt.   
  
The corridor in which she was standing bisected many other side hallways in a perpendicular fashion, all of which were lined with private offices and laboratories. At one end of the hallway Celestra spied a set of four elevator compartments, at the other end, the main stairwell the connected all fifty-nine floors of the complex. Figuring that the stakes were too high to take any chances with the elevator, Celestra inaudibly crossed to the staircase and began her spiraling trek upward, plasma lasers at the ready, ears cocked for the slightest sound.   
  
Her caution never wavered; when she set foot on the threshold of the twentieth floor her only motion was to pause and quietly inform Slippy of her current location. And so her patient pursuit continued until she eased the door open at the fifty-fifth floor; taking a quick glance down the principal corridor her caution rewarded her as she slipped, unnoticed, into the nearest sunk-in doorframe, lasers in a ready position in her slender hands.   
  
A dozen soldiers were grouped in the center of the hall, a couple standing, some sitting comfortably, and a few milling about, seemingly bored or indifferent. To ever-observant Celestra, the handful of Venomians sprawled out on the floor posed the most immediate threat; when the encounter came to blows they would have a better angle at her legs, meaning that she would more than likely need to be quick on her feet. Fixing her gaze upward she confirmed that there were no escape routes through the ceiling, which meant that the only means of desertion were the elevators and the staircase just behind her.   
  
Assuming they could beat her to either location.   
  
Brushing a strand of ebony hair away from her glittering aqua eyes, the assassin raised her guns and made her way out of the office alcove. Under another circumstance the situation may have been laughable; there she stood, perhaps thirty feet away in the center of the hallwy, and those in her sights remained conveniently unaware of her.   
  
She fired once with each weapon, simultaneously striking two different targets and killing both instantly. Then, with a speed unbeknowst to her enemies, Celestra dove to her right and rolled into the shelter of another alcove. With a unified shout the rest of the group assembled and, instead of wading around into the girl's line of fire, focused their lasers on the wall of the sanctuary closest to them, slowly wearing away at the rock of Celestra's hiding place.   
  
Always anticipating a turn of events, Celestra holstered one gun and drew out one of her switchblades, then sprinted out and into the next awning, throwing the deadly blade as she went. Thankfully it caught one of the men in the jugular, and with her plasma gun Celestra disposed of two more with simple rapid fire. Deciding to test the odds (for in the openiong minutes she hadn't been in the least bit impressed with their aim), the assassin leaned around the corner of her new alcove, taking careful aim and firing a trio of shots that burned three little holes in one soldiers' forehead. Drawing out her other switchblade as she continued her assault, Celestra dove and skidded into her next hiding place, all the while lessening the space between her and her adversaries.   
  
Her next move overwhelmed all but one of them. Celestra leaned out to one side and threw the switchblade into the crowd. It sailed through the center of their tight-knit formation, but had been meant purely as a distraction. As the soldiers watched the blades' path through the air, Celestra killed five of the remaining six with several skillful blasts of her plasma lasers.   
  
The last Venomian, clearly older and higher of rank, dodged one shot and let fly with a stream of his own. Celestra dove stomach-first to the tiled floor, letting one of the handheld weapons skitter to the side so she could break her fall, and fired twice at vital areas of the man's body as all of his shots hit the wall behind her harmlessly high. Within three minutes the hall had withdrawn into a more quiet air, the only sound being Celestra's light, slightly quickened breathing.   
  
As she padded about, retrieving her weapons, the communicator assaulted her ear and she pressed it in annoyance. "What is it this time, Slippy?"   
  
"Merrick's got hackers of his own tailing my frequency. I don't know how much more time I can buy you, Marquette."   
  
Celestra's mind did a few quick calculations. "Can you give me ten minutes?"   
  
A short pause followed; Slippy had assumed she would require at least half an hour. "I think so."   
  
Celestra smirked to herself. "Perfect. Give them hell."   
  
"Roger that. Over and out."   
  
~~*~~  
  
"Hey Falco, wake up!"   
  
The avian jerked in surprise and bolted upright; in his impatience he had accidentally dropped off to sleep in the cockpit of his Arwing. Rubbing sleep from his ever-intense eyes, Falco regained his controls and brought the craft into a loose formation with Fox and Peppy. "What's so important that you find it necessary to scare me half to death?"   
  
"Slippy just contacted us. He says that Celestra had him hack the Metgiacon computer systems--"  
  
"That chick did what?!" Falco cut in.   
  
"--And it worked. The mainframe is completely disabled, and Celestra's got the lot of them trapped in the higher levels," Fox finished, undeterred.   
  
Falco's beak dropped open in astonishment as he considered the words. "But how can on girl last out against roughly two hundred Venomians?"   
  
"She's not just 'one girl'," Peppy corrected in an affronted tone. "She's the most efficient assassin Pepper has ever employed, and she's never failed at a mission."   
  
The avian's face grew stern at the obvious confrontation. "Got anything else to say, old man?"   
  
"Let it go, you two!" Fox pressed as Peppy opened his mouth in anger. "Regardless of what we think concerning Celestra, it's clear that she's doing her job right now. We need to focus on our half of the scam; in ten minutes Celestra and Slippy will have regained control of Metgiacon, and on their signal, we sneak in and rescue the general."   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra, thankfully, met no further resistance on the next three floors, so naturally she was very on her guard when she peeked through a crack in the door of the summit floor and spied swarms of Venomians crowding the hallway. Not that she hadn't expected their swelled ranks; the basis of her plan had called for the bulk of the force to trap themselves in the same room as the mainframe. There was, however, one minor predicament the normally flawless assassin had overlooked: how was she to execute all two hundred Venomians without letting any slip past her?   
  
'Quick yet effective', she pondered, tapping her foot impatiently in the stairwell doorframe.   
  
It hit her all at once--if she could get her hands on just one high-quality detonator, she could reclam the complex with a bang. Retreating halfway down to the next floor, Celestra gingerly pressed the communicator chip in her ear. "Slippy, I need you."   
  
Slippy, waging a private war with Merrick's own computer hackers, cursed in frustration and obliged grudgingly. "How can I serve Your Highness?"   
  
'If I wasn't so exhausted, I'd let him have it,' Celestra told herself. Instead, she said, "I've got an idea. Hack the mainframe so hard that you leave it temporarily disabled."   
  
"What?!" Slippy cried in astonishment.   
  
"Before you do that, I'll need to speak with your wing commander. I'm going to set off an explosive, but I need him to supply me with one. If the mainframe is off-line, it won't be harmed in the explosion."   
  
Slippy was so taken aback that he lost considerable ground against the hackers. It was impossible! Assassin or not, Celestra could never hope to pull off such a drastic offensive plot!   
  
And yet . . .   
  
The young technician terminated the link with Celestra and immediately re-routed the transmitter frequency to Fox McCloud's Arwing.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Fox nearly leapt out of his fur when a shrill beep resounded through the cockpit of his Arwing, SpiritNova. Glancing wildly at the G-Diffuser console, Fox discerned that a tiny green light was flashing rapidly, under which there read the words, 'incoming transmission'. Wondering with more than a little nervousness who was attempting to reach him, Fox accepted the call with a lengthy, "Commander Fox McCloud, Star Fox."   
  
Celestra snickered despite the situation. "How very formal, commander."   
  
The pilot's eyes widened in shock and relief. "Marquette! You're okay!"   
  
"Only for the moment being, but I'm in a rush, I must say. I'll get right to the point--you wouldn't happen to have a Titanian detonator, would you?"   
  
Fox felt his eyebrows draw together in a frown. "Why--?"  
  
"--I don't have time for this, McCloud," Celestra interrupted. "My profession calls for unbridled success, and let's just say that these guys will get away if I don't find a bomb soon."   
  
The mercenary dug through every pocket on his flight vest and finally unearthed a single, fist-sized detonator. "I've got one here, but it's a Zonessian model from a couple years back. Will it work?"   
  
Celestra, so used to the best technological warfare from her own private stores, sighed in defeat. "It'll have to work."   
  
Fox loaded the miniscule bomb into a canister on his helm labeled 'import/export', but didn't send it right away. His hand hovering millimeters from the send command, he asked, voice dripping with suspicion, "What is it for?"   
  
The assassin narrowed her eyes in such a vision of manic ferocity that Fox feared she would leap out of his G-Diffuser screen and throttle him, but he did not waver from his doubts. In the end, Celestra bared her teeth and said, "I'm going to--ah--purge the top floor." This time Fox screamed aloud; in their Arwings not so far away, Falco and Peppy stared. "You can't set off a detonator in the Metgiacon Department! Our superiors will murder us!"   
  
Celestra laughed maniacally; Fox was suddenly rather frightened of her and this drastic change. "They'd never touch me, McCloud. Now send me that bomb, now." When the male mercenary still did not comply, she continued acidly, "I am not getting paid to follow your noble ideals, McCloud. I'm getting paid to win. So, for the last time, teleport that bomb or there will be hell to pay for your insolence."   
  
The Star Fox leader cursed and bared his teeth, but the assassin was used to empty threats and was therefore not intimidated. Then he jammed a button above the canister and terminated Celestra's frequency without any further objections.   
  
From a rather hefty watch on Celestra's wrist materialized a metal orb that fit snugly in her fist. Indeed, the bomb was several years old; it was scuffed on all sides and the words 'fine explosives--Zoness' could barely be deemed legible. The assassin cared not, though, and clenched it in her fist as she raced back up to the top floor, all caution forgotten in the final throes of her ecstacy of battle.   
  
She kicked the stairwell door open without a passing thought, and they stared at her stupidly as she stood before them all, smirking. Merrick, overseeing the defense of his formidable hackers, was the only one who had enough sense to duck under a desk before Celestra squeezed the tiny red button, threw the object with all her strength, and dove back down the stairs for all her life.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Having just disabled the Metgiacon mainframe, Slippy clearly felt the vibrations of the explosion below as he reclined in his Arwing, awaiting instructions. Knowing that to be as explicit of a signal he could ask for, the technological mercenary fired the engines of his craft and manuevered back into the air, throwing all caution to the winds. Celestra's reputation preceded her, and Slippy knew that no Venomians remained in the area to oppose him.   
  
~~*~~  
  
The assassin, believing her exploits to be successful, allowed herself half a minute to catch her breath as she lay sprawled facedown on the staircase. Her rest was short-lived, though, as her ever-keen senses detected another presence just above her limp form. With unrivaled speed, Celestra swiveled into a flat position on her back and brought both plasma guns spinning into her hands.   
  
It was Merrick, with a laser leveled at her forehead from a point-blank range. "Marquette. I expected no less from Andross' most wanted."   
  
"Merrick," Celestra returned with a slight tilt of her head to acknowledge the compliment. "I must keep my reputation, you'll agree."   
  
The Venomian inclined his head with a sadistic grin to her. "Surely I understand." Then, indicating his gun, he said, "But a million of Andross' supporters have as much value as your demise."   
  
"It is there that I must disappoint you," the assassin retorted, and with unbelievable reflexes she kicked the laser from his trembling hands. The weapon sailed down the stairs, where it clanged off the handrail and out of sight. Merrick's eyes shone with panic, and he bolted downstairs at full speed.   
  
Celestra found her feet fairly quickly and fired multiple shots at his back, all of which missed as the man vaulted over the rail and rolled to break his fall. The assassin, never missing a beat, mimicked the move and tackled him to the ground, losing the grips on her guns in the process and willingly letting them fall away from their scuffle. Merrick's left fist found her jaw, but Celestra was not made of glass and accepted the blow as she struggled with her boot, which was tucked beneath her at an awkward angle.   
  
Merrick lurched forward sickeningly then, glancing down at his abdomen. Celestra had not forgotten her butterfly knife. Drawing him close to her face, the girl whispered in his ear, "I'll be certain to let Andross know how quickly you ran from conflict with one of his most despised adversaries." With that sentiment, Celestra gave a brutal twist of the tiny blade and then ripped it out of the man's stomach.   
  
The last Venomian with the Metgiacon Department fell dead at the assassin's back as she continued her descent.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"Fox, come in. We made it out."   
  
Peppy and Falco perked up when they heard Celestra's indifferent voice; the three mercenaries had been growing increasingly more bored with the extensive wait. Now, though, Fox moved quickly to accept the transmission. "What happened in there, you two?"   
  
Slippy and Celestra, already in the air again and leaving Metgiacon behind, shared a sarcastic laugh. "Let's just say that I've got an enormous migraine, and that our newest ally is now wearing a red tank top," Slippy snickered.   
  
"We're en route to the base at this moment," Celestra continued. "Get in, get Pepper, and get out; we'll cover you in the air."   
  
With a nod to Falco, Fox waved Peppy to the rear of the base, where he circled and then landed on a pad made for just that purpose within the trees. Fox motioned to the avian, and the pair sped toward the front of the base, splitting at the center and sweeping the ground forces with a deadly barrage of blue and yellow lasers. "How soon will they be here?" Falco growled through a tight beak.   
  
"Ten minutes, Lombardi," Celestra informed him. "Over and out."   
  
Off to one side, Peppy had emerged from the trees and was waving Fox down with wide arm circles. When the way was mostly clear, Fox and Peppy snuck, unnoticed, into the land force bunker and began traversing the tunnels within, leaving Falco to wait for the remainder of the team and aid int he air strike when Pepper was out safely.   
  
Celestra and Slippy flew flawlessly and made it to the base in six minutes, just in time to see Fox and Peppy escorting General Pepper to safety. Then the mighty air strike commenced, blow after blow forcing the Venomians further into the base. Falco and Celestra secured the perimeter with a meticulous ease as the other three mercenaries surrounded the outer rim of the Cornerian base.   
  
Those Venomian forces still alive after the initial assault surrendered the base within half an hour. 


	6. Chapter Five: Through the Asteroid Field

Chapter Five: "Through the Asteroid Field"   
  
Celestra's hair was still soaking wet and hanging in tendrils about her pale-complected face when someone with the Great Fox rapped on her bedroom door. Wearing only a large fluffy towel and dripping water along the carpet, the Macbethian assassin made her way to the door, yanking it open roughly and finding herself face-to-face with Falco Lombardi. To his credit, Falco did well to keep his eyes locked fautlessly with hers, and Celestra found herself wondering how strong the avian's willpower truly was.   
  
"Pepper's giving us a new assignment in fifteen minutes," Falco began shortly, folding his arms across his green flight jacket in what Celestra felt sure was a defensive posture.   
  
"If it's anything as ridiculous as the first, I'll be sure not to hold my breath," Celestra retorted, turning away from the door but leaving it open. If she had read Falco correctly during their initial meeting, he had a short fuse, and this encounter might prove highly amusing.   
  
Never missing a beat, Falco stepped in after her, casting a passive gaze over her room. "How so? Bit difficult for you?"   
  
"Quite the contrary, no, Lombardi. I found it boring and rather distracting, considering I now have four bickering male mercenaries to babysit. That's not precisely my idea of a good time." She was combing her hair out now, keeping half an eye on Falco through the mirror mounted on her wall.   
  
Falco tried his utmost to remain composed, but the proud side of him was truly stung by her reference of 'babysitting' him and his teammates. Leaning casually against the wall, staring right back into Celestra's reflection, he asked, "Is the concept of friendship that difficult for you to grasp, or is it your lack of first-hand experience?"   
  
Knowing full well that he expected her to deny the claim, she said, more to deflate his ego, "Lack of first-hand experience. You learn not to waste your time on such foolish emotions when you're doing real work."   
  
"Define 'real work' for me," Falco shot back, feeling his face heating up substantially. "Do you call killing from shadows real, noble work? At least some of us fight with some semblance of honor."   
  
Suddenly Celestra's eyes flashed, and in a movement too fast for Falco to see she had spun around and flung one of her switchblades through the air; it spun end-over-end until it thudded into the wall, embedded up to the hilt millimeters from Falco's face. She strode the length of the room, face livid, and grabbed the avian's shoulders, slamming him back against the wall.   
  
"Honor?" she began, her voice sharp and icy. "You want to talk about honor? Okay, then, Lombardi, I'll play along. Is it honorable to brainwash decent people who have never committed a crime in their lives? Is it honorable to shoot children at point-blank range? Is it honorable to tear apart families when they never wanted anything to do with Venom or Andross or war?"   
  
Falco swallowed hard despite himself. "N-No," he stammered. "It's not."   
  
"Then don't preach to me about honor," Celestra finished quietly, releasing him with an almost saddened look in her eyes. "Maybe you and your friends are convinced that you're the only ones fighting for a noble cause, but there are some people who have seen all these things first-hand and have been forever changed." She looked him full in the eyes, and he gasped softly at the intense regret and sadness within her gaze. "We have learned the hard way that there is no honor."   
  
He stood there staring at her, positively dumbfounded, even as she departed to dress. When she returned, he hadn't moved, and when she left her room for mission control, Falco was still staring into space as though he was seeing Celestra's view of the world for the first time.   
  
And suddenly it wasn't so radical.   
  
~~*~~  
  
General Pepper was talking idly with Fox, Peppy, and Slippy when Celestra strode into the briefing room, seating herself at the windowsill again. The general's eyes twinkled at her when he said, "Unorthodox, I must admit, but I have come to accept your eccentric tactics over the years, Marquette, and therefore offer my most sincere congratulations and thanks."   
  
Celestra came forward and dipped into a low, generous bow, then returned to the sill without a word just as Falco entered the briefing room, seating himself wordlessly beside Slippy and keeping his focus on Pepper. "For your unfaltering service, Marquette, I grant you news," the general continued. "A message from Bill Grey, your colleague." The screen dimmed for a moment, then Bill's happy face materialized in Pepper's place.   
  
"Hey, Marquette!" he called, and the assassin's eyes sparkled with a luster the likes of which the mercenaries had never seen. "A load of G-Diffuser frequencies got scrambled after your little escapade at Metgiacon, yours included, but thankfully enough I got ahold of Pepper and he forwarded my message. Corneria's radar screens are clearer than they've been in ages; you lot did a bang-up job! As for me, I'm at the Katinan frontline base preparin' defense patterns and such. General Pepper will be glad to know that his cross-space lieutenants are rallyin' to hold off Andross and aid in the war any way we can. As always, a few days is far too long to be without you, Marquette--hope to see you soon! Bill Grey, out."   
  
With a hearty salute, the male assassin faded, only to be replaced by the general moments later.   
  
"As for your lot, McCloud," Pepper continued gaily, "I am in your debt for sparing my life and my base. It is with great pleasure that I reward you full ownership of the Great Fox itself, and may it serve you well."   
  
Slippy and Falco exchanged an exuberant high-five as Fox sputtered out a few words of thanks.   
  
"Now, for your next mission, I can assure you that there will be no need to split yourselves up," he continued, drawing back everyone's attention. "In two days the Cornerian fleet will be joining with a smaller squadron from Katina. To complete the rendezvous, we will have to fight our way through Sector Y combat zone; the leader of Katinan forces, Captain Gilraen Anilora, fears ambush of his smaller force and has asked for assistance."   
  
"Us, you mean," Peppy reasoned.   
  
Pepper nodded. "Captain Anilora has been casually acquainted with Fox before, and I daresay you know him well enough, Celestra?"   
  
The mercenaries all looked curiously to the assassin, who ignored all of them and focused solely on Pepper. "Yes, sir, I know Gilraen well enough." It seemed from Fox and Peppy's vantage point that a faint tinge of crimson had appered in Celestra's cheeks.   
  
"Tell Anilora he can count on us," Fox answered briskly, rubbing his hands together. "We just need a route that will get us there in time."   
  
"What if we cut through the asteriod field?" Peppy reasoned, leaning forward in his chair. "We could meet him on the northwestern side of Meteo in a day and a half if we make good time."   
  
Fox swiveled in his chair to regard his other two teammates. "You guys good with that?"   
  
"We're good," Falco affirmed. Slippy nodded.   
  
"What about you?" Fox continued, turning to Celestra at the back of the room. "Are you in?"   
  
The assassin smiled mysteriously at the prospect of more battle and idly twirled a butterfly knife with the nimble fingers of her left hand. Fox assumed that was as good of an answer as he could hope for from her and nodded to the general. "Mission accepted. We'll make out way through the asteroid field and escort Anilora to you via Sector Y."   
  
"Very good," said Pepper. "When can you depart?"   
  
"Immediately," Celestra offered, and for once the other agreed.   
  
"Excellent. Aronius Pepper, over and out."   
  
~~*~~  
  
In twenty minutes or so the five space pilots had departed the celestial majesty that was their new cruiser. Peppy and Slippy circled the rear of Great Fox, alert for an ambush from behind, while Falco rotated between flanks, fanning out far to the sides and providing a ful perspective to the team. Fox led the procession into the outer rim of the asteroid field, and Celestra, far too restless for the mercenaries' cautious approach, had already sped off far ahead; Rage of Macbeth was nowhere in sight. Slippy had already distributed various maps to Fox's computer, detailing the safest and most direct route through Meteo, and ROB constantly ran diagnostics on the five Arwings, ensuring that each craft was in top working order.   
  
"Once we make it through the outer rim, we should be clear for at least a few hours," Fox observed, studying his computer screen and announcing his findings over an open radio channel.   
  
"We can follow the rim for the first day," Slippy added, "but for the last twelve hours we'll have to be on alert as we manuever through the center."   
  
Peppy stayed silent, letting his gaze drift ahead in hopes of seeing Celestra's ship. "Hey, ROB--is there a transponder in Rage of Macbeth?"   
  
The AI summoned a skematic of Celestra's Arwing and perused the mainframe. "Affirmative," he replied in a drone. "She is roughly two miles to our immediate west. I will keep an eye on her."   
  
Falco sighed in disgust. "Who's babysitting now?" he muttered to himself.   
  
"At least the lot of you are good entertainment," came Celestra's voice over the intercom. "I didn't know you were such an active comedian, Lombardi."   
  
Slippy snickered; Falco cursed under his breath.   
  
"Anything interesting up there, Marquette?" Fox called, drawing away from the cruiser a bit and broadening his frontal viewpoint.   
  
A couple of miles ahead, the assassin guided her spacecraft through a more concentrated field of free-flying rock. "Unless you're really into enormous brown rocks, then no, nothing at all."   
  
"Be sure to keep this channel open," Fox reminded, then everyone fell silent and settled into a comfortable scouting routine.   
  
After three uneventful hours of penetrating the outer ring of Meteo, the Star Fox team had boarded their cruiser again, leaving ROB and Slippy to keep a lookout. In another fifty minutes Celestra had also returned, proceeding straight to her private quarters. After many fruitless minutes of attempting contact with Bill, the girl fell into a light sleep, door locked and inter-ship communications shut down. Ironically enough, Bill himself had struggled with his own transmitters earlier that hour, and had likewise given up in a foul mood.   
  
Fox and Peppy conversed again with General Pepper, informing him that they were on schedule.   
  
And all the while Falco stood motionlessly before one of the great windows of the cruiser, rolling Celestra's words over in his mind and finding that he hated the assassin all the more for the truth behind them.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra was jolted awake very suddenly perhaps an hour or so later. Her keen eyes flitted back and forth all around the room, making certain that all of her possessions were still where she had left them, then slowly rose, moving to the nearest wall and leaning against it. For several uneasy moments, all was silent, but then she felt the subtle vibrations coming from outside the ship.   
  
Great Fox was under attack.   
  
Throwing a flight vest haphazardly across her shoulders, Celestra quickly stepped into her magical boots and clamped out the door, jogging the length of the ship to the main tactics room where ROB, Slippy, and Peppy were all bustling about.   
  
"Guess I don't have to tell you guys that we're being shot at," Celestra offered dryly, crossing to stand at Peppy's side near a holo-vidscreen that displayed the situation outside.   
  
"It just started a minute or so ago," the hare explained, seemingly not bothered by the ordeal. "A dozen class D Venomian craft are attacking the rear left section of the cruiser."   
  
"A distraction?" Slippy asked, accompanying ROB at the mainframe.   
  
Celestra tapped the toe of one boot several times merely for her own mirth. "Most likely." Then, over her shoulder to ROB, she continued, "Open the hangar for me. I'll fly out and take care of them."   
  
Peppy placed a hand on her forearm as she moved for the door. "And if it is an ambush?" he pressed.   
  
The assassin shook his hand away none too gently. "I think I can handle some class D pushovers, old man," she snapped, then she turned on her heel and strode away. Peppy sighed, pained by her words, and turned to help Slippy at the helm.   
  
"It's a trap," Fox claimed bluntly as he strode into the tactics room a few minutes later and moved behind Peppy to watch Celestra's progress. With a little sigh, the hare nodded his agreement.   
  
"Wouldn't she be smart enough to know that?" Slippy reasoned.   
  
"That depends," Falco cut in, stretching and yawning as he joined his companions. "Me, I think she's been hit in the head a few times during the last six years." He, Fox, and Slippy had a laugh at that until Peppy cut them short with a scowl. The avian turned away, still chuckling softly, and nipped at the feathers of his right shoulder.   
  
"Guess we'll find out."   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra, being Pepper's most prized assassin, had already deduced that she was being set up. Class D Venomians were small craft with far too little shield energy to protect themselves from Rage of Macbeth's advanced laser technology, so it only made sense that they were only there as bait. She took a roundabout way to her enemies, just to see if the ambush was lying in wait on the cruiser's other side, then charged in from below, firing at the engines from her advantageous angle. As she had expected, the formation scattered and fanned out, working to lead her away from Great Fox. Deciding to play along, the assassin gave chase, pursuing them into a nearby cluster of asteroids and taking them out while they had their backs turned.   
  
"She's walking right into a trap, and she knows it," Fox observed, noting the assassin's movements and marking them as defensive. "This is the first noble thing she's done--she purposely drove them away from us."   
  
"That doesn't mean anything," Falco protested. "She probably just didn't want to risk helping them tear her mode of transportation apart." When he had finished, no one seemed convinced by that statement, and Falco found that he didn't believe it either.   
  
Just as Celestra had successfully eliminated the last of them, a brilliant white flash illuminated the entire area in a radius of five miles, causing the Star Fox team to dive to the floor, shielding thier eyes, and Celestra to cry out in pain and fierce denial. None of them saw the twenty or so class B Hybrid stealth crafts emerge from behind various chunks of rock.   
  
Fox was the first to regain his vision, and he raggedly drug himself level with the holographic screen. After several seconds of squinting he cried, "Hybrids! ROB, prep our Arwings, Marquette is flying blind!"   
  
"Working," came ROB's voice from somewhere left of Fox as the others struggled to their feet. "All craft ready for deployment, Fox."   
  
Fox pounded off down the hall, boarding his Arwing and ejecting from the hangar before his teammates had even realized where he'd gone.   
  
Meanwhile, Celestra buried her head in her flight jacket, tears of intense pain welling in her eyes as she let loose her first bomb. It shot through the air, detonating and incinerating half of the Hybrids before Fox had even arrived. Just as the assassin had regained her eyesight completely, the pair of them had taken out the rest of the would-be ambush.   
  
"You're not half-bad, McCloud," Celestra offered as she and Fox docked and were making their way back to the tactics room.   
  
"I was just the first guy to regain visuals," Fox assured.   
  
Celestra stopped dead in the hallway, forcing Fox to do the same. "Who are you trying to kid? Those guys wouldn't come after me for all the money in Lylat, and you know it."   
  
"Marquette, listen--"   
  
"Quit making excuses, McCloud," she cut him off, hands defensively on her hips. "This is all my doing, and that's okay. The truth is that I don't want your friendships or your alliances because I learned when I was a kid that the more ties you have, the more vulnerable you really are. As soon as we're finished, I'm gone, paycheck and all, and you'll never see me again. I daresay we'll all be better off for it."   
  
The mercenary balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in anger. "I risked my neck to help you out, only to find that you couldn't care less?! Tell me all this junk beforehand next time, so I don't waste my time or my energy."   
  
"Here's your last warning: stay out of my way," Celestra ordered menacingly, icy eyes ablaze. "It's like I told Falco--maybe you guys think you're saving the day, but I now that honor is just a figment of the imagination. After every devastation there's just a bigger one, so try not to get your hopes set on killing Andross. There will always be another guys just waiting to take his place." She backed up a step, gaze once again more soft, and she whispered to the floor, "Believe me. I know." With that, the assassin turned and headed off down the hallway to her living quarters, leaving Fox more confused than angry.   
  
None of them saw her again until they met up with Captain Anilora's squadron, led by the Katinan cruiser, Whitewater. 


	7. Chapter Six: Fierce Melee

Chapter Six: "Fierce Melee"   
  
Celestra leaned on the rail of the bridge connecting Arwing hangars and living quarters aboard Whitewater, letting the artificial breeze play across her pale face and ruffle the frayed edges of her cutoff jean shorts. Her fingernails picked idly at her black tank top and the zipper of her black flight vest, and she was tapping her combat boots incessantly against the tiled floor.   
  
Suddenly everything seemed irritating.   
  
When the mercenaries had come aboard Anilora's ship, they had all coolly ignored the fact that she was even present--all except for Peppy, who had offered only a pitying glance and a half-smile. She, likewise, avoided them, keeping to herself and prefering to remain aboard the Katinan cruiser when Star Fox returned to Great Fox to lead the way onward. Celestra didn't care that they despised her, she reminded herself--there was far too much at stake for her to make many friends of her own.   
  
They were weaknesses, detrimental flaws. Assassins couldn't afford to have flaws.   
  
"Do you so hate them?" came a voice from behind her, a quiet voice that she both hated and loved. Turning her head, she locked eyes with Captain Gilraen Anilora, one of the few humans left alive that inhabited a planet south of the Solar nebula. He had a fine mop of dirty-blonde hair flecked with strands of silver that only made him seem more distinguished and wise for one still so young. He stood only a bit taller than Celestra herself, with a lithely muscled torso and arms that deceptively masked his strength. His eyes were pools of a deep, rich violet, and his smooth face seemed to smile at her in a warm, welcoming fashion. As he moved to join the assassin at the rail, she rolled her eyes and turned back, staring out at the radical light green and yellow space fires of Sector Y combat zone.   
  
"Is my solitude so wrong?" she asked cryptically.   
  
Anilora sighed and moved quietly to her side, sharing the magnificent view. "We will surely see battle this night."   
  
Now it was Celestra's turn to sigh, hanging her head in what was clearly frustration. "It's just an easy way to attack the heart, Gilraen."   
  
"Oh? What is?" he pressed patiently.   
  
"Friendship. You know how Andross's lot are: they would sooner torture innocent people to get what they want than fight fair."   
  
"Some people don't have honor," Anilora explained bitterly. "That is their way."   
  
"Still others know better," Celestra countered, eyes narrowed to slits. "They know that honor is a false notion and nothing more."   
  
Anilora studied her fair face inquisitively. "I'm afraid that I don't understand you, Celestra."   
  
"Then let me specify," she continued peevishly. "People fight to win, and will therefore use any underhanded tactics they must to claim victory. Those who play by the rules discover too late that in war, there are no rules."   
  
"So that is why you shun the mercenaries?" the Katinan officer asked. "Because you believe that if you befriended them, your enemies would attack your heart as opposed to your body?"   
  
A weary smile found Celestra's face. "Once long ago my heart was nearly destroyed when my home and my loved ones faced the evil of war and lost. I do not wish to fight that battle ever again, and in so doing I can never offer up my feelings."   
  
"Well, what about Bill Grey?" Anilora continued. "If you harbor no beliefs in friendship, what do you call him?"   
  
The assassin laughed sarcastically and shook her head, silently applauding Anilora and his deft logic trap. "A business friend, then, and nothing more."   
  
Anilora nodded. "And what of me?"   
  
Celestra did well to conceal her frantic blush. "Are you trying to make a point, meddlesome captain?"   
  
"I most certainly am. I am trying to explain how fighting with passion and friendship is stronger than a flawless battle with no positive emotion. Take Fox McCloud, if you will. A successful mercenary, do not doubt, and assuredly one of Pepper's closest allies and Andross's hated adversaries. As strong, intelligent, and resilient of a man one could ever be graced with knowing.   
  
"Now look at his personal life, Celestra. Even beyond Star Fox, the man has many friends, whether or not they are 'business friends'. He has much more to lose than you do, and yet his intentions are pure and he is successful in his endeavors."   
  
"Yes, Gilraen, but--"   
  
"But nothing. Fox McCloud fights with passion, and that is why he wins."   
  
Celestra was lightning quick in her counter. "I am even more successful than McCloud. Explain that."   
  
"You are extremely strong and talented in your craft," Anilora responded coolly. "Yet I say also that you will meet your greatest enemy one day, and you will wish that you had friends to help you combat it. Someday you will face yourself, lonesome and without passion, and your defeat will come from within."   
  
She slumped against the rail, seeming tired and haggard, and Anilora gripped her shoulders supportively and comfortingly. "It's too late, Gilraen! Any hopes I had for friendship among the mercenaries are surely gone now, after I worked so hard to sever all ties. They won't forgive me now."   
  
"They may yet," the captain reasoned. "Fox and his lot are reasonable men--even Falco--and if you care enough and want it enough, you can succeed. I have seen the truth of your friendship, and I know that these passions are not impossible for you."   
  
Celestra hoisted herself back up and leaned her head back against Anilora's shoulder.   
  
A mere two minutes later an alarm sounded, and all pilots boarded their Arwings, ready to battle their way to General Pepper.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra broke from Anilora's squadron and pulled out ahead with Fox, Falco, and Peppy. Slippy, she was told, was piloting Great Fox and the majestic cruiser would focus on taking out the larger Venomian craft. The four Arwings manuevered into a loose diamond formation, Celestra as its point, and the fleet pressed in.   
  
It was dreadfully quiet at first; Fox was conversing with his team, but all else was tense and still. Then a pair of Venomian cruisers came into view and an innumerable swarm of Hybrids wafted from the hatches of the crafts like a swarm of angry bees.   
  
"Break formation!" came Fox's voice. "Don't let any of them get around us!"   
  
Celestra dove hard to the left and barrel-rolled past a large concentration of the enemy craft; Falco, who had been the rear of the diamond, followed her lead against his better judgment. Fox shot straight ahead, bisecting the bulk of the Hybrids, and Peppy fell back, targeting any stragglers attempting to sneak away from the battle.   
  
"Mach 2 model Destroyers closing form the right flank!" Falco informed, and he rolled to the right, scattering the Destroyers with a barrage of brilliant blue laser fire. Celestra pressed forward, finishing the majority of the Hybrids with a single well-placed bomb. The offenders lucky enough to escape the assassin were finished quickly by Peppy, who had slowly begun closing in behind them. Fox's Arwing was near the cruisers, and everyone with a half mile clearly heard the explosion as the mercenary eliminated the first large ship.   
  
Falco's craft shuddered and he doubled back as his shield energy dropped; a pair of Destroyers wre tailing him and refused to be shaken. MeteoRiot bucked wildly to all sides under the avian's practiced hand, but the Venomians were quick and he was losing ground.   
  
Celestra saw Falco's plight from the corner of her eye, cursed herself, and broke from the forefront, U-turning her way back to the Destroyers and frantically evading a trio of Hybrids as she did so. Things were turning ill for Falco, but then the assassin swooped in and dispatched both with a few well-coordinated shots. Her shields dropped as her pursuers closed in, but as she turned to regard the Hybrids a small grey craft blew past her and mowed them down.   
  
"Was there possibly some honor in that act?" Anilora called as he continued on, a score of Katinan warriors in a cluster behind him.   
  
"I can handle myself, thank you!" Celestra yelled back, but her faint blush overrode her anger.   
  
Falco had already begun his pursuit of the remaining Destroyers, but his mind was reeling elsewhere. 'Those guys almost throttled me', the avian realized. 'Did Marquette actually mean to help me?'   
  
He laughed at the notion. 'Nah.'   
  
Fox reappeared, his Arwing scorched all along one side, with Peppy tailing him closely. "We took out both of those cruisers, but there are at least six more up ahead," he explained. "Anilora and his guys are moving into position--I'm pretty sure they're gunning for the main fleet."   
  
Celestra re-angled Rage of Macbeth and took off, speeding past Fox and heading in the direction of the main Venomian brigade.   
  
The mercenaries let her go without a word.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Anilora and his men had little difficulty locating the bulk of the Venomian forces. There were plenty more Hybrids and Destroyers waiting for them, encompassing the larger ships and cruisers. The Katinans fanned out, picking out targets, easily outnumbered fifteen to one.   
  
"Eliminate the smaller craft first!" ordered the captain. "It will take our entire force to bring down those command ships!"   
  
The battle raged all about them, enemy numbers dwindling slowly, but the Katinan soldiers were poorly matched in numbers and Anilora didn't have men to lose. From behind him came multiple shots from a tight-knit group of Destroyers, and the captain rolled diagonally, hoping to lose them in a gap. Instead, he became boxed in when several more of the craft closed in before him.   
  
A shower of dazzling silver laser energy poured down around him, and Anilora, expecting to see his wondrous cruiser come to aid him, soon found that he had been rescued by Celestra Marquette. "Did you think I'd let you take down the main fleet without me?" she teased as she manuevered effortlessly in a ring around him until his offenders had been driven away.   
  
"I can handle myself, thank you," Anilora joken, repeating her earlier statement.   
  
Celestra laughed at him.   
  
In a matter of thirty-five minutes, Anilora, the assassin, and what remained of their small band had somehow overrun the first line of their assailants and had since turned their sights to the many cruisers bunched in the area. The captain led his troops in a wide arc, closing in and loosing barrage after barrage of green lasers while Celestra fell back, studying the scene from a wider perspective.   
  
It was then that she spotted the second line of Destroyers, a group of fifty or so craft that were sneaking in on the Katinans from behind.   
  
"Gilraen! Come about!"   
  
Celestra couldn't get to them in time, and only four Arwings, Anilora's included, were lucky enough to escape the first pass. The assassin gritted her teeth, tightened her hands about the joysticks guiding her magnificent craft, and charged at the lot of them head-on.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"What are you doing?! Get away from there!"   
  
"Gilraen, get out of here!"   
  
"Celestra!!"   
  
With a sickening crackle, the open channel died. Fox settled his Arwing on a hover, face grave. "I can't believe she's doing this," he murmured. "If only we--"   
  
"No," Falco snapped before Fox could continue.   
  
Fox glared at the avian. "No what?"   
  
"You want us to go after Marquette," Falco accused. "You know that part where the normally fearless leader does something really stupid, and everyone hates him for it? This is it. When has she saved our hides, Fox?"   
  
Peppy whipped his Arwing in a semicircle, facing Falco and fixing him with a cold glare. "As a matter of fact, she saved you from a pair of Destroyers no more than an hour ago, kid."   
  
Falco's feathers bristled with rage, but in his heart he knew Peppy was right. "They were probably just in her way or something--"   
  
"You know, Lombardi, I think you're wrong," Fox cut in, now more thoughtful than irritated. "I don't know when or how it happened, but I'm almost positive that the old Celestra has started to resurface." He looked to Peppy. "You know--the seven-year-old you told me stories about."   
  
Very slowly, the older hare nodded.   
  
"You guys can't be serious!" Falco shrieked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Give me a break--that was twelve years ago! Why can't you all just accept the fact that she's an assassin now? She's not who she was when Macbeth went up in flames; she's changed, and now she's nothing but a stuck-up, self-centered b--"   
  
Fox whipped SpiritNova in a semicircle, turning abruptly away from the avian and putting himself in line with the distant melee. "Peppy, are you with me? I'm willing to put just a bit more faith in the girl you used to know."   
  
Nebulafire floated to his side. "Lead the way, commander."   
  
"Well?" Fox cried at Falco, who cowered under his leaders' stern tone. "Are you coming or not?"   
  
A white flash lit up the sky from somewhere ahead. Falco trained his keen eyes on the livid inferno.   
  
"Let's get this over with," he muttered.   
  
With that, the three mercenaries sped off into the distance, eyes scouring the combat zone for the main battle. Behind them, unnoticed so far, glided the looming specters of the cruisers Great Fox and Whitewater.   
  
~~*~~  
  
The up-side to fighting Destroyers was that they were large, human-shaped robotic creatures, and were thus easy targets. The down-side was that since Celestra was battling single-handedly, she was their only target.   
  
The assassin recognized her poor odds at living through the assault--much less winning out--but knew that her mission came before all else, and her mission was to make sure Anilora's fleet made it to Pepper on the other side. She had already decided that she would see the captain through to the end, no matter the personal risk.   
  
Celestra evaded beautifully, tearing ferociously into the ranks of Destroyers and dropping their number from fifty to thirty in the opening two minutes of the skirmish, but her ship was being obliterated by laser fire form every possible angle, and her shields were almost exhausted. Every few seconds her fiery eyes darted to the shield gauge, her heart in her throat. When the energy finally gave out, any one hit from her adversaries would finish her off.   
  
A well-placed stroke from one of the cyborgs sent one of her crafts' wings spinning off into space, and her lopsided Arwings' vital systems screamed out warnings. Celestra bit her lip and kept firing.   
  
All at once the perimeter lit up like a laser-light show; multiple barrages of blue, red, and yellow beat back the ring of merciless Destroyers, allowing Celestra to sneak through a gap and conceal her mangled Arwing behind one of the newcomers.   
  
The side of the craft read SpiritNova.   
  
" . . . McCloud?!" the assassin gasped out, unable to fathom who had come to her rescue.   
  
"Don't give me any thank-yous just yet," Fox choked out, now putting his Arwing in a defensive posture in front of hers and attacking the second line. "We're far from out of this one, and there's still those cruisers to annihilate, you know."   
  
"But why did you--?"   
  
The mercenary leader cut her off with a weak chuckle. "Let's just say it's a matter of honor."   
  
Celestra didn't know if she would kill or kiss Captain Anilora when she next saw him.   
  
"One of the cruisers is opening fire!" Peppy shouted over the inter-ship com, and as one the four pilots rolled and retreated several hundred feet. Falco took the rest of the Destroyers out by himself, and the mercenaries all circled Celestra in a protective fashion as she fussed over her shield gauge, which was rising sluggishly.   
  
"When I'm back up to half-power, I'll jump back in!" she called to them.   
  
Fox nodded and motioned to Peppy and Falco, who swiftly split up and began assaulting the Venomian command ship from different angles. The ship wasn't interested in them, though, as it instead opened fire on Celestra, who gasped. Fox sent his Arwing into a tight corkscrew, taking the heavy hit for her. The rear of his spacecraft began smoking ominously, and he cursed.   
  
"Without more firepower, we'll never take down these cruisers!" he moaned.   
  
At that precise moment, another score of Katinan soldiers angled their way in, led by a familiar grey craft that could only belong to Captain Anilora. His Arwing had taken many heavy blows, but still he charged in, shouting hurried orders to his wingmates. Celestra beamed at the craft, feeling her face grow hot again. She kicked her Arwings' main thrusters up to their maximum, and at half-power each she and Fox joined Anilora's ranks. In half a minute the offending cruisers' engines blew and the thing imploded, flailing through the green and yellow fires of the zone and out of sight.   
  
The remaining five command ships formed a tight line and blew Anilora's ranks in half.   
  
Falco led the next charge himself, rallying ten spacecraft into a V-formation behind him and swooping down upon the far-right cruiser. The avian, like Celestra, lost a wing in the charge, but he considered it well worth the cost when his companions sped away, leaving another wrecked cruiser in their wake. Peppy blazed in, off to one side, and somehow collapsed one of the ships' main engines, causing it to reel away, helpless, as Anilora's men tore it apart.   
  
Three cruisers were left, but they manuevered into a tighter cluster and charged, using their larger guns to scatter the goodly ranks and force them into disarray. Captain Anilora called for the ships to regroup, but those still alive were cut off from their leader by a never-ending barrage from the larger ships.   
  
It was then that a pair of plasma bombs fired from behind them, seeking and finding the middle cruiser and crippling it beyond repair. Turning in horror, expecting to see Venomian reinforcements, the assassin, the mercenaries, and the Katinans all gave a cheer as the rest of Anilora's forces, one hundred and fifty strong, led Great Fox and Whitewater into the fray. Slippy, piloting the mercenaries' new cruiser with ease, called for Anilora and all the rest to fall back, and the toad obliterated the final pair of cruisers in thirty seconds.   
  
Captain Anilora had lost one-fourth of his original force, but both cruisers made it out of Sector Y combat zone without damage. Celestra had bruises on her shoulders and upper arms from her Arwing restraints and all the jostling from the Destroyers, but everyone else sustained only minor injuries.   
  
Later than night, not one pilot disagreed when someone said that General Pepper's newest cruiser, named Vortex Four, was the most welcome sight they had ever seen. 


	8. Chapter Seven: The Awakening

Chapter Seven: "The Awakening"   
  
"So--you lied to me."   
  
Celestra opened her eyes with an effort and turned her head to regard the speaker. The crew members bearing questionable injuries had been asked to board Pepper's cruiser, where they were taken to the hospital wing and thoroughly looked over. The assassin had been placed in a cryogenic sleep chamber, and the doctors had x-rayed her arms for any broken bones. When they deduced that there were none, Celestra had been stablized and left to sleep in an isolated hospital bed. Now, though, she did wake as she studied the handsome face of Captain Anilora.   
  
"What are you d-d-doing here?" she yawned, sitting up and ignoring the light-headedness she felt. "You weren't hurt in the fight, were you?"   
  
Anilora shook his head, then waved one hand about, indicating her and the room. Celestra rubbed her eyes to conceal her blush, then, as an afterthought, added, "I lied to you? You'll have to be more specific."   
  
"You assured me that it was too late to befriend the Star Fox team," he elaborated with a soft smile.   
  
Celestra lay back, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, and Anilora drug a stool to the side of her bed to be near her. He was startled, though, when he studied her eyes and saw tears in them. Celestra Marquette was one person he had never seen in such a state of weakness. Worried, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.   
  
"Celestra, I'm sorry, I--"   
  
"Gilraen," she cut him off quietly, blinking the droplets back, "I don't know who I am anymore. I used to be so--I don't know--steadfast, I guess. Like no one could touch me, no one could get inside and know me. Now I feel like a few people are seeing my inner self, and I'm not sure if I want them to or not."   
  
Anilora leaned back, studying her carefully through his deep violet eyes and stroking his chin with his hand. It was difficult for him to see the assassin in such a struggle of indecision, but he wasn't sure if he was the man to help her through it. He knew he was one of those few people beginning to see the other side of Celestra, and knew also that she was having quite a time at putting her stress into words. After a few minutes of undisturbed contemplation, Anilora shook himself from his reverie and said, "It seems the task before you is to decide which person you want to be."   
  
Celestra tilted her head to one side, not quite understanding. "I'm not sure I follow you."   
  
"Well, look at it this way. The Celestra I know is a successful assassin--beautiful and deadly, yet cold, hard, and vengeful. She has a difficult time fathoming emotions such as love and friendship, I would guess, but that is because she isolates herself from others and perfers to tread her difficult road alone.   
  
"But the Celestra that Peppy Hare used to know would have given anything to protect someone she cared for. She would have tackled any task, no matter how impossible, with the knowledge that she would always have supportive friends behind her. She was out to make the galaxy a better place, not to merely survive in it.   
  
"Now, what you have to do is discover what event or chain of events in your life so drastically altered who you are, then decide which person you would rather be."   
  
A ringing silence fell, in which Celestra's eyes glossed over as every word of Anilora's speech sunk in. He was right--she almost hated how transparent she was to him--but what did that mean? How was she supposed to discern the factor in her past responsible for molding her into this unfeeling, uncaring assassin?   
  
Anilora marked well the blatant confusion on Celestra's face and stood up, brushing his navy blue cargo pants off nervously. "I have given you quite enough to think about," he murmured, then he bent low, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and exited as noiselessly as he could.   
  
Celestra barely took note of his passing, merely turned over onto her stomach and buried her face in a pillow, ebony hair cascading over her neck and shoulders carelessly. It seemed a lifetime away, her journey from Macbeth to Corneria, but somewhere in her subconscious she vaguely remembered seeing her home burst into flame, hearing Peppy's retelling of James' death, feeling the warmth of Bill's arms around her the many times he had tried to comfort her, and gradually all the memories filtered back to her, the good and the bad, and she remembered who she had been.   
  
That was the child, an innocent little girl who had not yet seen the cruelty and injustice of war. But now who was she?   
  
The assassin lifted her head, tears threatening to fall from her eyes again. All the world had ground to a sickening halt, leaving her with the truth of who, of what, she had truly become. Somewhere between then and now she had slowly transformed into one of the killers in the galaxy that she was so frequently hired to destroy.   
  
At first she dismissed the notion; there was no real truth behind it. Upon closer inspection, though, Celestra was horrified when she realized that she was no better than common thieves and murderers. She killed for money; whether or not she did it for a good cause suddenly didn't matter. To the girl she had been, the mere thought of it sickened her; to the person she was now, her profession was a way of life, and no more than second nature.   
  
Celestra put her head in her hands and cried as she had not cried in years. Into her slender hands she poured out her frustration, her misplaced hatred, and all the malicious stains upon her soul that she had gained along the way. And somewhere in the twenty minutes that she cried, Celestra Marquette, the daughter of Jarius and Olivia Marquette, the Macbethian, the innocent, carefree seven-year-old, woke up.   
  
When finally she raised her head to mop up her sopping face, she locked gazes with Peppy Hare.   
  
The hare didn't say anything at first; in all actuality, he really didn't have to, for as soon as Captain Anilora had left Celestra he had gone straight to the mercenary and explained the girls' predicament. He stood motionless now, doing his best to appear unthreatening, feeling as though he was approaching an exotic, rabid animal. The pair stared at each other, sharing a contemplative moment much like the one they had shared some twelve years ago when he had rescued her from the Legacy and brought her upon Great Fox.   
  
Then, beyond any action Peppy had expected her to make first, Celestra smiled. It wasn't just any regular smile that could be dismissed after a moments' notice, but a genuine smile, the one that had warmed a young Bill's heart when nothing else could, the one that had made Gilraen Anilora fall in love several years before.   
  
It was the smile of Peppy's adopted daughter.   
  
"Oh, Peppy!" she exclaimed, sitting up to her full height and pushing the bedsheets aside. "I . . . never told you this, but . . . I really . . . missed you."   
  
He stared at her for a moment, disbelieving, but then she held out her arms to him and beckoned for a hug. Peppy hurried to her side, sat close to her, and threw his arms around her, stroking her shiny hair and cradling her head to his chest. Celestra returned the embrace tenfold, feeling for the first time in twelve years as though she were home.   
  
"Remind me to thank Gilraen, won't you?" she asked.   
  
Peppy chuckled through his tears of joy. "I don't think you'll forget to do that yourself, kiddo."   
  
On the other side of the door, Captain Anilora turned away and departed down the hall for his private quarters, grinning heartily and feeling as though the scene he had just witness was thanks enough.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"That's absolutely unacceptable, I'm afraid. You are dismissed, and do not set foot in my presence again unless you bear more pleasant news."   
  
The soldier cowered and backed away, bowing ceaselessly until he had turned a corner and was out of sight. High upon his throne he sighed, tapping his long, crude fingernails upon the armrest and staring into empty space, thinking.   
  
"O'Donnel." His voice came out low and raspy, a poisonous whisper that caused every guard in the hall to shiver uncontrollably. "Wolf O'Donnel, it is time for us to continue our business dealings. Report."   
  
A large screen poised in the center of the room crackled to life, and a grey wolf appeared before him, highly distinguishable by his meticulously bushy tail, black eye patch, and electric-blue eye. Smirking maliciously, Wolf bowed low, straightening his flight vest. "My Lord. Too long it has been since last we met."   
  
"Too true, but I haven't the time for such idle pleasantries these days, O'Donnel. I have a job for you and your team."   
  
At the word 'job', Wolf's keen ears perked up noticeably and he leaned forward. "You have my attention, my Lord. Please continue."   
  
"The new defensive outpost for the Cornerian army has recently been located on the southernmost reaches of the planet Fortuna," he explained, still tapping his fingernails eerily and eying Wolf with keen interest. "It is very important that the base become mine. I will give you three days. That is all."   
  
Wolf paused, slightly taken aback by the shrewdness of the request. Taking a few seconds to recover, though, he found himself complying. "I accept on behalf of Star Wolf. Will I be granted reinforcements, my Lord?"   
  
"They will be on Fortuna waiting for your arrival, O'Donnel. Now, listen carefully--earlier this evening, the fleet I sent to waylay that foolish Anilora was annihilated in Sector Y combat zone. It is my understanding that Star Fox and the assassin Marquette were the main cause of this."   
  
The mercenary leader twitched his tail thoughtfully.   
  
"They will most likely attempt to spoil these plans. On your life, O'Donnel, be sure that they fail."   
  
Now Wolf was smiling again. "I understand perfectly, my Lord. Put your faith in me--Star Fox will fall."   
  
"Excellent," he purred, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Oh, O'Donnel, one more thing--do not be surprised if I see fit to assign you a bit of extra help."   
  
"Of course," Wolf agreed, then he snapped into a uniform salute and de-materialized from view.   
  
From his perch, he signaled to another of his many attendants. "Get me Frost. Immediately."   
  
This time it took many minutes for a figure to appear on the screen, but when one did, the occupant of the throne did not mind the wait. The figure wasn't tall, but of average height with a lithely, compacted, muscular body that had long since been honed to its deadliest perfection. Everything about him radiated meticulous organization and faultlessness, from the superlative grooming of his jet-black raven's feathers to the mint condition of his forest green flight jacket and boots. He might have been normal, even good-looking, were it not for his eyes: they were an unplaceable green, empty, cold, and fathomless. In short, he resonated the look of one who has been through the most dangerous ordeals and never been bested.   
  
"Well, my Lord, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," the raven began, smoothing a stray feather and crossing his arms. "I was tending to a few--ah--personal affairs."   
  
He relaxed in his throne, placing his fingertips together and grinning. "Ah, Reivin Frost--the work of an assassin never ends?"   
  
"Too true, too true," Reivin lamented casually. "I have heard of the eradication of your fourth regiment this night, my Lord. Most unfortunate."   
  
"Indeed," he gritted; most people would have cowered under that tone, but Reivin Frost seemed quite unimpressed. "I have a new task for you, Frost--on you will most certainly enjoy."   
  
"Oh?" Reivin pressed, seating himself and idly buffering a combat knife from his belt. "Do tell."   
  
"At this very moment, one of your greatest enemies is enjoying a victory aboard one of General Aronius Pepper's cruisers, by the name of Vortex Four."   
  
The assassin set his knife aside and leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped together. The expression of disinterest had melted from his face, replaced by one of cold hatred. "Which? I have many."   
  
"Celestra Marquette."   
  
Reivin's eyes blazed at the mention of the name, searing with sincere hatred. "You tell me this why?"   
  
"Because as we speak, Star Wolf is moving to wrench the Fortunan defensive base from the hands of Pepper's forces, and this move will most certainly stir Marquette and Star Fox into action."   
  
The evil assassin rose from his seat, collecting several weapons and tucking them into a utility belt he had strapped over one shoulder. "I will depart immediately, my Lord." He gave a short, jerky bow and moved to depart, but the man on the throne stopped him short.   
  
"Keep in mind, Frost, the critical nature of this mission," he whispered menacingly. "And I will only tell you this once--Marquette cannot be allowed to live."   
  
"Understood," Reivin affirmed, and the G-Diffuser screen blackened.   
  
He settled back into his throne, calling for a glass of wine, and grinned wickedly to himself. Reivin Frost would hunt Celestra Marquette to the ends of the universe for his own personal pleasure, and Wolf O'Donnel's crew were more than a match for Fox McCloud and his useless teammates.   
  
Such was the power of Andross, the Tyrant of Lylat. 


	9. Chapter Eight: Star Wolf

Chapter Eight: "Star Wolf"   
  
The Katinan squadron departed Sector Y beside General Pepper the next day, bound for Corneria. The final moments of parting between Celestra and Anilora were rather awkward, in which the captain gave her a useful item: a key to open any lock. Celestra accepted it in full gratitude, knowing that it would prove vital to her at a later date, and she and Anilora parted ways, but not, both were certain, for the last time.   
  
Under teh careful guidance of ROB, Great Fox drifted southeast for the remainder of the day, passing between the asteroid field and Katina, and Peppy did not miss the yearning look on Celestra's face as they left the home of Bill Grey behind them. Fox reported that the newest defensive base was fully operational upon Lylat's third planet, Fortuna, and that he suspected Peppper would have them drop it on it to be sure all was well.   
  
Things had definitely improved for Celestra since her act of self-discovery; she and Fox were on the most peaceful of terms, determining their next course without argument. Peppy was delighted to have regained something of a daughter virtually overnight, and Slippy was much less tense around her now, even going so far as to let her pilot the cruiser if she fancied. Her only problem that remained was that of Falco. The avian continued to be openly hostile, but Celestra took his comments instride now and didn't offer any retorting remarks. Fox assured her that Falco would mellow out eventually, and the assassin truly hoped so: aside from being brash and sarcastic, Celestra found him to be quite handsome.   
  
Fox and Celestra were in the tactics room with a rather disgruntled Slippy when ROB's mechanical voice came over the intercome, "Incoming transmission from General Pepper. Priority one!" The three exchanged a knowing gaze and sprinted off to the briefing room to find Peppy and ROB waiting for them.   
  
"How was your return trip to Corneria, sir?" Fox questioned, sitting in a chair before the G-Diffuser screen and kicking his feet up.   
  
"Forget the return trip!" Pepper snapped, and it was then that they all noticed his haggard, exhausted appearance. "The Fortunan base has--"   
  
At that moment, Falco strolled in.   
  
"Why are you always the last one to mission control?!" Slippy exclaimed.   
  
Falco scowled. "Well, if you must know, it was my turn to run diagnostics on our Arwings." As an afterthought, he added with a smirk, "Oh, and I skipped over yours, Slip."   
  
"Enough!" shouted Pepper, and everyone aboard Great Fox fell silent without any further prompting. "Now listen carefully, all of you--Andross has seized control of our defensive base on Fortuna."   
  
"Damn," Falco muttered, crossing his arms. "Doesn't that monkey have anything better to do?"   
  
"Shut up, Lombardi," Fox hissed, and the avian cursed again but hushed. "How many guys are we looking at, General? Fifty, at least?"   
  
"No," said Pepper. "Five."   
  
Falco burst into laughter. "Alright, maybe Andross has a new strategy: strength in . . . er . . . well, a couple of guys."   
  
"Shut up, Lombardi!" Fox, Celestra, and Peppy all shouted at once.   
  
"Let's think," Slippy began thoughtfully, turning his red baseball cap backwards, "how many people do we know who are stupid enough to usurp a base with so few numbers?"   
  
"Three guesses, and the first two don't count," Falco commented. "And here's a clue--his name starts with 'O' and ends with 'Donnel'." By this time everyone in the briefing room was laughing too hard to tell Falco to stop talking.   
  
Everyone except Celestra.   
  
"But you said five, General," she realized, brow furrowed in a frown. "Star Wolf is a mercenary squad made up of four guys: Wolf O'Donnel, Leon Powalski, Pigma Dengar, and Andross's own nephew, Andrew Oikinny."   
  
At this point, the laughter died away.   
  
"And I meant five," the general confirmed, a bit of the sternness in his voice fading when he looked with pity at Celestra. "The fifth is an assassin, hand-picked by Andross himself with the sole purpose of hunting you down, Marquette."   
  
Fox was shocked to see that instead of the assassin's usual confidence, her face had grown quite pale. "Who?" she asked, almost inaudibly.   
  
Pepper's face was grave. "Reivin Frost."   
  
Celestra, standing near the door, stumbled a bit and sat down very hard in a chair beside Peppy, who placed a hand on her shoulder, face distraught.   
  
Falco ruffled his feathers and gave a sigh. "I take it we're supposed to be afraid of this guy?"   
  
"Any sane man would be," Peppy answered, looking up with an odd light lingering in his eyes. "He's a cold-hearted killer, an unfeeling tool that Andross took advantage of long ago. He's a personal friend of Leon's, too, so don't be surprised if he's given Powalski a few pointers, Falco."   
  
The avian gritted his beak but said nothing. Leon Powalski was his childhood arch-nemesis.   
  
"Recover our base, I beg you," Pepper pleaded in a helpless tone. "If you fail, this war very well may be over." Without another word, the general cut the transmission, leaving the Great Fox in a very gloomy state indeed.   
  
"What I would like to know," Fox began quietly, glancing at Celestra, "is how you know Frost so well."   
  
The assassin rose suddenly and crossed to the windows, considering the light blue and white planet that was Fortuna. "It's a difficult story to tell, Fox, but I'll do the best I can.   
  
"If you didn't know, Bill Grey is also an assassin. He's from Katina and is really the person I thank for getting me into this profession. Anyway, he and I are childhood friends, and somewhere in out beginners' pilot training we met a raven our age whose name was Reivin Frost. Bill and Reivin hit it off instantly, and the three of us graduated at the top of our class. That pair of them were a few years older than I was, so they became assassins right out of flight school, and I enrolled in an advanced class to pass the time.   
  
"A couple of years passed, and Bill and Reivin started getting into a lot of trouble--drinking, drugs, gangs, the whole nine yards. They got arrested one night when they broke into a liquot store and tried to bust into the cash register."   
  
"Sounds like Bill," Falco muttered. Fox glared at him.   
  
"The cops caught Bill, but Reivin got away for awhile. The sheriff made Bill talk, and Reivin went to jail right alongside him.   
  
"Well, when they got out, I became an assassin, and Bill quit doing all the illegal stuff he had been into. Reivin became the guy that lurked in dark alleys, leading gang fights, and somewhere along the line, a guy came to him with a job and said that he wanted a close friend of Bill's dead. After some thinking, Reivin took the job and tried his luck. After the first successful mission, Reivin went ack an innumerable amount of times, until I was his prime target.   
  
"As it turns out, he gave me my first scar on the job," Celestra finished, lifting up her shirt a bit and showing them a foot-long scar running along her ribcage. "Nobody really won that fight. When it came down to crunch time, Bill and I hooked up with Pepper, but Reivin fell in with Wolf and Leon and wound up next to Andross."   
  
"And he still wants you dead?" Fox asked.   
  
Celestra nodded. "Ever since Bill turned his back on gangs and drugs and got clean, Reivin's been out to get the two of us."   
  
For some time nobody spoke, merely perused the information until they were clear on all the details. After what seemed like an hour, Fox cleared his throat. "Is everybody good to fight?"   
  
"Personal battles are the ones that prove what kind of person you are," Slippy told them. "I'm in."   
  
"Personal battles suck, Slip," Falco corrected. "But if I get to tangle with Powalski, I've got no complaints."   
  
Peppy's eyes were literally on fire. "This is Dengar we're talking about, Fox. I"m there."   
  
"Celestra?"   
  
The assassin didn't answer right away. It had been years since she and Reivin had had a fight of any kind, but she had not forgotten any of their confrontations. Their hatred of one another ran deeper and more thick than blood, and she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was afraid.   
  
"If he wants a fight with me, he can have one," Celestra answered, firming her jaw. "As soon as I see him, I'll rip him apart."   
  
~~*~~  
  
Leon Powalski had been milling around in the trees for about an hour by the time Reivin found him. Although Reivin was arguably one of the stealthiest people in the galaxy, Leon sensed him first: he was a chameleon, and his senses of hearing and smell were second to none. Leon's skin was an alluring shade of green (when he allowed it to be), and there was visibly not an ounce of fat on his well-toned body. The boots he wore complimented his claws and his mode of climbing well, for they expanded or contracted in accordance with the surface. His eyes were the color of onyx, but held no warmth: he was a killer, a torturer, and he held little love for friends, only for allies.   
  
Reivin was not surprised when Leon shimmied down a nearby tree soundlessly and reverted to his natural color: unlike Reivin, Leon had been born a master of stealth, but Reivin had nearly perfected the art.   
  
"My greetings, Leon."   
  
"And mine." The chameleon's voice was smooth, as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Where are the others?"   
  
Reivin cocked his head to indicate the base, some quarter of a mile behind them. "Dengar is one his way. I have yet to see Andrew. Wolf is speaking with Andross, and will be here shortly."   
  
The chameleon did well to mark the edge to Reivin's voice, so it was with conviction that he commented, "You are heavily anticipating this battle."   
  
Reivin crossed his arms and scowled; there were very few people who could register his emotions with such accuracy, but Leon was certainly one of them. "I have a mission to complete. Anticipation is a well-expected by-product."   
  
"By-product nothing," Leon countered, clicking his tongue out to better study the environment. "You're facing the Marquette girl today. Your fighting equal."   
  
"I have no fighting equal, Leon." Reivin was having difficulty keeping his temper in check now.   
  
Leon grinned and melted back into the trees leaves, invisible even to teh assassin's keen eyes. "Perhaps. Only your heart can tell you such things. But, if I may, she would have been dead long ago if her skills were inferior to yours."   
  
"Oh, shut up, Powalski."   
  
Reivin turned and found himself facing Pigma Dengar, the biggest swindler he knew. Pigma was quite short and pudgy, preferring his fighter jet to hand-to-hand combat as Reivin and Leon did. The swine had turned traitor many years ago, an act that ultimately brought about the end of James McCloud, and the assassin had no doubts that Pigma would turn the lot of them in if it would prove beneficial to his career. Everything about the rotund pig, from his beady brown eyes to his unusually high-pitched voice, annoyed Reivin beyond words, and it was all he could do now to keep his fists from pummeling the greedy little mercenary's face.   
  
"Ah, Pigma," came Leon's voice from somewhere within the boughs above. "We were just discussing the impending battle. Would you care to share your thoughts?"   
  
Pigma wisely kept his mouth shut. It was common knowledge that, in addition to bringing in James McCloud, he had let Peppy Hare escape. Many believed that if Peppy had also been killed, the war would have been given to Andross with little extra effort. Reivin smirked to himself and silently applauded Leon for so deftly silencing the pig.   
  
"What about your little rivalry, Powalski?" Pigma snapped. "Could it be that Leon has found his own match in Falco Lombardi?"   
  
"He lives because I allow him to," Leon replied without missing a beat. "And, if I must remind you, your situation is much the same."   
  
Reivin did chuckle a bit at that; Pigma's face flushed a deep, ugly purple.   
  
"Enough, all of you," came another voice, and Wolf strode into the shade of the trees, adjusting his eyepatch. "Our adversaries have departed their cruiser and are en route to the base. They will arrive in seven minutes."   
  
"Excellent," said Reivin, smoothing his sleek black feathers and straightening up. "Andrew has placed the detonator?"   
  
Wolf sneered and beckoned the three on, and they fell into step behind him. "Fear not, Reivin--whether or not we win or lose, Pepper will be minus a defensive base." All of them shared a sadistic laugh at that, even the assassin, whose eyes were scrutinizing the distant sky.   
  
It would be good indeed to see Celestra Marquette again.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Fox led the way into Fortuna's rich atmosphere, scanning the treeline for a general idea of where the base was located. Falco and Slippy flanked him, fanning out to the sides, and Peppy brought up the rear, computer tracking the transponder in Celestra's Arwing. She had chosen to serve as backup, a position that meant she would arrive at the battle from another location and hopefully take Star Wolf by surprise.   
  
Falco found the base first, and then only because of a few wisps of smoke coming from the slits in the roof. Even as they moved to close in, four aircraft emerged from the trees, and each individual paired up with one of their enemies: Fox to Wolf, Falco to Leon, Peppy to Pigma, and Slippy to Andrew. The red lasers of Star Wolf's crafts razed long lines of smoke through the air, but the Star Fox team wisely kept their shots in check in the opening seconds, for they were so bunched together that they may have hit one another as well as their adversaries.   
  
"We meet again, McCloud," Wolf taunted over the open intership channel.   
  
"O'Donnel." Fox cornered sharply, spotting Andrew out of the corner f his eyes and firing a line of yellow shots that grazed the underside of the ape's craft. "Do I even have to ask under whose orders you have apprehended this base?"   
  
Wolf barrel-rolled to deflect Fox's newest barrage, setting his sights on Peppy for a moment and igniting the rear of the hare's craft. "Oh, I don't think you need to be told."   
  
Peppy checked his shield gauge, which was slowly dropping due to the flame spreading along the end of his ship. Cursing, he spun his controls in a wide arc, only to be blocked by Leon as Pigma closed in from behind. The hare turned the opposite direction, shields screaming in protest, far too slow . . .   
  
"Hey, Powalski, let's keep this between me and you!" shouted Falco, cutting in from above and loosing a barrage that rained down upon Leon, weakening his shields from full to half in a matter of seconds. Leon somersaulted flawlessly, coming in right beside Falco, and Peppy U-turned, firing and leveling the right side of Pigma's craft and veering low, skimming the trees, glancing over his shoulder and daring his nemesis to follow.   
  
"Well well, Lombardi, your skills have improved since last we met!" Leon called smoothly, glancing over and locking eyes with Falco. The avian cursed explicitly and slammed his Arwing into Leon's, metal squealing against metal, sparks flying until the pair parted to dodge a few trees. Leon U-turned, bringing Falco more fully into his sights and snickering in the ecstacy of battle.   
  
Slippy dipped low, the belly of his Arwing nearly scuffing the ground, and Andrew fired again, this time severing one of the wings and causing Acid Rain to overbalance precariously. Slippy was having a far worse time than his comrades in this battle, terribly outmatched by his opponent, who was more than a better pilot, but nearly as good of a strategist as well. The young toad kept an eye on his shield gauge, watching it dwindle to fifteen percent, wondering if he could last another two minutes.   
  
"Fox! I'm cornered!"   
  
But the battle was far from won, as another Arwing bisected the trees and came at Andrew full force. An endless stream of silver laser energy pummeled the ape's ship, and he cried out, somersaulting in a desperate attempt to evade. Celestra narrowed her eyes and mimicked the move, keeping Andrew in her sights until his shields were exhausted. Slippy cut back in, not just hitting the craft but imploding the engines, and with a strangled yell, Andrew crashed helplessly into the trees.   
  
"I owe you big for that one, Celestra," Slippy breathed, heart racing as he re-checked his vitals.   
  
"Forget about it," Celestra snapped, but the young mercenary let it go, knowing that her nerves were straining to their maximum. Slippy barrel-rolled just in tme to deflect a shot from Pigma, and without another word he was off again. For a moment, Celestra wondered why Pigma was off flying free, but glancing at the immediate area, saw that Peppy had also been shot down.   
  
Something very odd happened to the assassin then. As she turned several corkscrews, trying to discern another target, Captain Anilora's voice echoed in her head, giving her considerable pause.   
  
'Fox McCloud fights with passion, and that is why he wins.'   
  
Celestra glanced down, just catching a glimpse of Peppy as he stumbled out of the wreckage of Nebulafire. What if he had been seriously hurt, or worse, killed?   
  
Murdered by the same man who had killed James McCloud.   
  
"Passion," Celestra whispered, and with a strange wrenching in her stomach the assassin U-turned and sped up, her sights set firmly on Pigma Dengar.   
  
"You'd better run for your life, Dengar, 'cause today you pay!" she cried.   
  
Far below, his sleek black fighter jet concealed within the trees just east of the base, Reivin Frost grinned at the girl's bravado. Then he booted up his main thrusters and sped toward the battle.   
  
Celestra almost felt blind, letting her emotions guide her through a series of daring pursuing manuevers as Pigma dodged in terror. Somewhere in her subconscious she knew she had yelled something, but she only fully awoke again when Pigma's craft burst into uncontrollable flame and exploded.   
  
"Not a bad speech, Celestra!" Fox called through gritted teeth, Arwing shuddering as Wolf closed in mercilessly.   
  
"What did I say?!"   
  
"You kept yelling something about passion; I'm not quite sure."   
  
Celestra laughed, but the action ceased as she jammed on her brakes, face white again. There, floating easily twenty feet away, was Reivin Frost, her greatest, most hated enemy in all of Lylat. He glared at her for a moment, eyes glittering with intense dislike, and said, "So, Celestra--how's Bill?"   
  
The female assassin screamed in denial and dove at hiim with all the speed her boosters could give. Still Reivin evaded, but she pursued, and their deadly game continued high above Fortuna, endless, flawless. The pair spiraled higher, nearly exiting the atmosphere, neither winning, straining for even a glancing blow. Reivin couldn't admit it to Leon, but he did to himself: Celestra was, without a doubt, his fighting equal.   
  
Celestra barrel-rolled threet imes, but was so overcome with emotion that she wasn't even dizzy; at the end of her third spin, she slammed into the side of Reivin's ship, rapidly dropping both of their shield gauges. Reivin gnawed his lower beak and fired at point-blank range, sending sparks shooting up all along Rage of Macbeth's left tailwing. They broke apart, Celestra leading, and the pair chased one another into the thick trees, moving back toward the base.   
  
Meanwhile, Falco was in dire straits. Leon had him cornered at every turn, limiting the seemingly unending offensive moves, and the avian's fear of the torturer was starting to get the better of him. Falco cornered left and then U-turned, hoping the create some space, but the crafty chameleon somehow ended up right behind him, shooting for MeteoRiot's engines at his leisure. The avian doubled back and took an awkward shot at Wolf as he did so, but Leon was there again, obliterating Falco's shield energy this time and closing in for the kill.   
  
"My shields are gone!" Falco cried, voice quivering, knowing that it was too late.   
  
Only a few thousand feet away, Celestra heard Falco's desperate plea. All the petty grudges she held for him flew away at the sound of his ovice, scared and helpless and she pressed a button on her helm labeled 'illuminate'. Instantly, Reivin's eyes were temporarily blinded, and Celestra broke away from him at last, making with all speed for Falco.   
  
Leon saw her coming out of the corner of his eye, but he reacted too late. Instead of finishing his helpless target, the chameleon turned his craft to fire at Celestra--a bad move indeed, for while she did intend to take him down, she did not intend to use her laser energy. With a sickening crunch their spacecraft collided, and Celestra's wing-tip razed a motral gash down the side of Leon's ship, causing the craft to malfunction in all of its internal components. The wing snapped off, sending both pilots into a dizzying spin, aiming Celestra for the ground.   
  
Leon Powalski's ship turned a one hundred and eighty degree angle, leaving his back to Falco, who did not hesitate to obliterate the rest of the craft.   
  
Celestra had no hope of pulling out of the frantic dive, and her Arwing skittered to the ground like a stone.   
  
~~*~~  
  
When Falco and Slippy joined Fox, Wolf had no choice but to retreat.   
  
"I thought your shields were down?" Slippy asked the avian curiously when the trio had landed and shut down their Arwings, trekking on foot to find Peppy and Celestra.   
  
"Powalski had me," Falco gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. "And Marquette . . . she . . ."   
  
"It's called a sideswipe," Fox broke in, studying Falco's face in amusement. "It's not an offensive manuever they teach in the Academy because most officers consider it too dangerous to be classroom material. The move is meant to critically disable the opponent and expose the back."   
  
The avian hugged himself, completely at a loss. "Yeah . . . well . . . it works. At least now we know that."   
  
They found Peppy sitting upon the safety lockbox of his Arwing, which was demolished. The hare, amazingly, was not badly hurt.   
  
"Tougher than nails," he assured them with a wink, and they set off to locate the last of their group.   
  
Celestra saw them coming from a distance; she, too, had not been mortally injured in the crash, but the open door of the defensive base had caught her attention. Faint curls of smoke were trailing like snakes out into the sunlight, and that sight alone struck the ever-alert assassin as terribly out of place.   
  
"Five minutes," came a cold voice from behind her, and Celestra was not in the least surprised to find Reivin Frost standing casually behind her, idly twirling a pair of knives in the fingers of each hand. "Do you really think you can diffuse a bomb and make it out in time?"   
  
Celestra drew out her switchblades and likewise began twirling them, mentally preparing herself for the true confrontation. "You'd better believe I can."   
  
A hearty laugh erupted from the raven's belly. "That's the spirit!" he congratulated. "Go on, Celestra--I'll even give you a head start."   
  
"Slippy," Fox muttered over his shoulder. "We need our cruiser; I get the feeling we're going to need to make a quick getaway in a few minutes. Can you and Peppy electrically attach the downed Arwings to the back of yours and get them back to their hangars for reconstruction?"   
  
"You bet," Slippy conceded.   
  
"Do it. Meet us back here as quickly as you can. Falco and I will make sure Celestra makes it out okay." Slippy and Peppy rushed off, and beside Fox, Falco crossed his arms, frowning with intense dislike at Reivin.   
  
Celestra gritted her teeth and darted inside.   
  
Reivin, true to his word, counted to ten, then charged in after her, knives raised.   
  
~~*~~  
  
It was deathly dark within the defensive base; many of the power circuits had been tripped with the wiring of the detonator, and the only light came from overloading circuitry emitting sparks. Celestra did not look back, but pressed resolutely ahead, knowing full well that the specter of Reivin Frost gliding along behind her like a shadow of doom might very well freeze her in her tracks.   
  
She sensed the throw not a moment too soon, diving for the floor and rolling onto her back just as Reivin's first dagger sliced through the air where her head had been and sailed out of sight. He was upon her in an instant, rolling down the hallway, letting his momentum carry her along with him as they hacked at each other with reckless abandon. Reivin moved his knife in, aiming for her throat, and she brought her switchblades up before her in an X and caught the blow, straining to keep him back.   
  
"I've dreamed of this moment," he whispered seductively into her ear, channeling all of his strength into his blade arm. "Finally you will die, and my sweet revenge upon Bill will be complete!"   
  
Celestra grunted, shifted her right leg, and brought her knee slamming hard into his abdomen. He wheezed and the pressure slackened, allowing the female assassin to wriggle free and regain her feet, tearing back down the hall. Reivin was impossibly fast in his recovery, though, and he bolted after her, cackling wickedly at her back.   
  
"Run!" he called, gaining with every moment. "Even if you find the bomb and disable it, you'll have to fight your way out of here!"   
  
The remale assassin turned right, following the trail of smoke, catching a glimpse of a faint green glow in the imminent darkness. Hope renewed, she continued on, inwardly pleading for her legs to hold out. Reivin was only two steps behind now, and he reached out, drawing a line of blood across her shoulderblades. She cried out and whirled about, switchblades at the ready, to find that somewhere along the way her nemesis had regained his lost knife. Never hesitating, she came at him in a flurry of blades, and he blocked every one of her attacks, only to send moves of his own at her and find them similarly foiled. Celestra led the deadly dance, working her feet under her and closing the distance between them until she had a clear shot at his ribcage, which she took. He choked out a cry, eyes ablaze, and came at her even stronger, scoring another minor hit across her forearm.   
  
Celestra aimed one blade, ready to throw, and Reivin, thinking his chest the target, ducked and took a swipe at her legs. She jumped back and let fly, smiling in grim satisfaction as the knife thudded intot he wall opposite them, severing the fuse of the detonator just above the traveling flame. In an instant, the tiny spark flickered and died.   
  
Reivin howled and dove at her again, but his aim was low in his rage and she leaped right over him, letting him lead now as they backtracked down the hall the way they had come. His thoughts were solely on killing her, but Celestra's mind was elsewhere, still silently reciting Captain Anilora's words and taking strength in the mental image of Star Fox, the first friends she had every known, alive and well. She could see the sunlight just over her shoulder now as she intricately worked Reivin's blades up high and jabbed him in the chest. He responded with a slash at her stomach, but she parried it perfectly and hopped back, closing the gap between her and the exit.   
  
Then, without warning, her foot slipped on the step seperating the hallway from the grass outside, and she fell backwards into the sun, collapsing on her back.   
  
Her last switchblade skittered out of reach.   
  
Celestra expected to feel the cool steel enter her heart, or her throat, or any other vital area. When she realized that she was still alive, she chanced a glance up, and what she saw stole the rest of her breath.   
  
Standing resolutely with his feet planted apart, one wing out wide to conceal the fallen and injured female assassin behind him, the other stretched out before him brandishing the combat knife from Peppy's lockbox, was Falco Lombardi. Celestra could feel the blood from the mortal gash across her back seeping down and soaking her flight shirt, and she grimaced in pain. Falco's eyes intensified at the helpless sound, and in all sincerity he said over his shoulder, "Hang in there for a few more minutes, kid. Help is on the way."   
  
The male assassin across from the avian slowly lowered his knives, eyes glittering at Falco in such a way that suggested he was truly surprised by the intrusion. "You must be Leon's friend, Falco Lombardi. A pleasure to meet you."   
  
Falco tightened his grip on the handle of the knife and frowned deeply. "That's my name, but as for being Leon's friend, you were obviously misinformed. And the pleasure is all yours, scumbag."   
  
Reivin chuckled at the remark. "Step aside, mercenary. This is none of your concern."   
  
Celestra could not have been more surprised when Falco retorted, "I just made it my concern, assassin."   
  
"I am warning you: if you do not get out of my way, I will kill you," the raven warned.   
  
Falco shook his head and gritted, "Go to hell. I ain't movin'."   
  
Reivin stared at him for a moment, seemingly confused, then the familiar smirk found its way to his face as he gestured to Falco's combat knife. "Do you even know how to use that thing?" he teased, coming forward in a rush.   
  
Falco quick-stepped in front of the first blade, deflected the second, sending it sailing out of reach, and sank the knife deep into Reivin's side. The assassin gasped and choked out like a beached fish as Great Fox lowered from the sky, with Fox hanging out of one of they hangars. "Come on, Lombardi, let's move it!"   
  
The avian hoisted Celestra easily into his arms and clambered into the hovering cruiser behind Fox; Celestra just felt the tip of Reivin's wing scrape the back of her neck before Fox slammed the hangar door shut.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra stared down at her bare feet, wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of sweat shorts as Slippy finished wrapping tape around her chest, securing the bandages protecting the wound in her back. The assassin idly clenched her right fist, feeling the muscles tighten in protest along her injured forearm but finding she was pleased with the way Slippy had mended it. "Thanks, Slip. That puts us back to about even, I would say."   
  
Slippy laughed heartily and replaced all of his medical supplies in a small briefcase. "It's the least any of us could do--I think you saved about everyone from certain doom out there today."   
  
Celestra shook her head, testing her forearm yet again. "No, my friend--teamwork." She laughed as the toad backed out of the room, leaving the assassin alone with the gradually subsiding pain of her many wounds.   
  
Barely a minute later a faint knock sounded against the door, and when Celestra honored it she was surprised again to find Falco standing there, smiling softly. She beckoned him inside, returning the grin, and the avian found himself wincing as he studied the white surgical tape covering half of the rippling muscles in the assassin's back. She sat down on the table again, gazing at him quizzically, and he leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed across his flight jacket.   
  
"Why did you--?" Celestra began, but Falco cut her off with a dismissive wave of one wing.   
  
"First I'll settle for an explanation of the little trick you pulled on Powalski," Falco remarked.   
  
Celestra attempted to lean back against the wall, but found the pain only intensified so she righted herself again. "I perfected the sideswipe at age sixteen, under Peppy's patient tutelage. General Pepper deeply disapproved, but Peppy insisted it was a skill I should take the time to learn. I must say that it has its benefits."   
  
The avian's dark eyes twinkled at her, and Celestra's stomach churned a bit. "Let's just say I did what I did because you saved my life. Don't read too much into it; you'll make this into a big heroic story, and I don't think I could handle the fanfare."   
  
She laughed at that, and after a moment Falco joined in. Then he came and sat next to her, seeming almost embarrassed as he continued, "So thanks, Mar--Celestra. I don't think I would have walked away from that one without you."   
  
"I should be thanking you," she insisted.   
  
He raised his eyebrows humorously. "Then by all means, do." And they shared yet another hearty laugh with one another as he added, "By the way--that Frost guy is a psycho."   
  
"Agreed."   
  
Long after they had exhausted their jokes of Reivin, Falco sat with one wing draped carefully over her shoulders so as not to disturb her back. Celestra appreciated the gesture, but at the same time she couldn't keep herself from insisting that Reivin Frost had somehow survived.   
  
Somehow he always did. 


	10. Chapter Nine: The Many Trials of Bill Gr...

Chapter Nine: "The Many Trials of Bill Grey"  
  
Bill was sure to turn the hot water nozzle over to full before he stepped into the shower at four that morning. His sleeping habits had rapidly changed at the start of the war, and of late he had only slept about five hours a night. Three days had passed since the Fortunan base had been wrenched from the grasp of Star Wolf, and shortly after Celestra had finally gotten ahold of him at his housse just south of the Katinan base. When he had learned that Reivin Frost, his arch-enemy of half his life, had attacked Celestra, his worry had only increased. The grey dog hadn't slept in about sixty hours, and he was starting to find it pointless to even try.   
  
Something in his head nagged at him, telling him that sometime soon, Katina would be Andross's target. General Pepper had chosen to put his frontline base on Bill's home planet, so the assassin did his best to dismiss his fears. Even without his mind playing games with him, it was going to be a long day.   
  
At six in the morning (Bill was lifting weights to pass the time), his G-Diffuser system started beeping and flashing the 'incoming transmission' signal. Curious, thinking Celestra was attempting to contact him again, Bill replaced a weight bar, wiped his face with a work rag, and said, "Accept transmission; this is Bill Grey, assassin."   
  
The little screen flickered, and Bill was very surprised and pleased indeed to see the violet eyes of Captain Anilora.   
  
"Gilraen!" he exclaimed, taking a seat and grinning at the man in charge of all forces on Katina. "How--?" Bill let his question die, though, as he further studied Anilora's face. The man was clearly distraught, even panicked.   
  
"Bill, I'm terribly sorry to disturb you at such an early hour--"  
  
"Not a problem, cap'n."   
  
"--But I bring grave news. Lieutenant Rimmens of the KATI embassy informed me earlier this morning that a Venomian forefront squad is orbiting an area of space just above the frontline base."   
  
Bill came forward in his chair, yanking a flight shirt on and fastening a flight vest over it. KATI stood for the Katinan Airspace Technological Institution; if some lieutenant from that embassy had spotted enemy craft, no one doubted him. "How many guys we lookin' at, Cap'n?"   
  
Anilora rubbed his eyes, which were bloodshot and dry. "Rimmens' last count was thirty, but that was half an hour ago. Fo all we know, there could be more by now."   
  
The assassin was lacing up his combat boots now, face grave. "Anythin' else I should know?"   
  
"Yes, and this information leads us to believe that Andross will attack--and soon. Ten of KATI's cruisers have been pronounced missing in action. They were on their way home from the new Fortunan base, and every one of them disappeared from radar screens yesterday afternoon. That will cripple our forces considerably; all of those ships were listed first regiment."   
  
Bill cursed; ten top-of-the-line cruisers gone, Andross on the way, and Anilora's entire first fleet on Corneria? What chance did Katina have so short-handed? The assassin drew a hand down his face and said, "Don't worry, Gilraen--I can be at the base in ten minutes if I have to. We'll win out against Andross, I promise ya that!" He meant to leave that as his parting note, but Anilora cut him short.   
  
"I will meet you there in two hours, and the Great Fox is only forty-five minutes away."   
  
The grey dog stopped dead in his tracks, blinked rapidly a few times, and said, "Sorry, but . . . are you bein' serious?"   
  
Now Anilora did smile. "Quire serious, my friend. As soon as I heard of the missing cruisers, I departed Corneria with half of my fleet beside me, and Celestra, despite injuries, had little difficulty in swaying Fox's original course. Did you think she and I would be absent at your time of greatest need?" he finished playfully.   
  
Bill shook his head. "Not for a second. And Gilraen--thanks."   
  
"Don't thank me yet," replied the captain. "Thank me when we have driven Andross from our homeland! Gilraen Anilora, over and out."   
  
Bill let the transmission die on its own as he rushed to his bedroom, ignoring his unmade bed and scooping up his utility belt. After ensuring that he had all the equipment he needed, the assassin sprinted outside, tossing his items into the passenger seat of his doorless, topless old black Jeep and revving the engine. He could see the highest tiers of the base from his house, and his red-brown eyes glittered with a new hope as he sped off toward it.   
  
Gilraen. Celestra.   
  
He couldn't think of a better pair of people to share Katina's judgement day with.   
  
~~*~~  
  
The citizens of Nexxus, Katina's largest city, raised their voices in a unified cheer of joy when the single green Arwing sped across the clear blue sky, leaving smoke lines from its exhaust in its wake.   
  
Bill grinned to himself as he looked down at them all. This Arwing wasn't just any craft from some little fleet--it was Fury of Katina, the heart and soul of Lylat's fifth planet, the banner of Katina's wrath. All who stood below and watched its course lifted their hearts in hope, for the assassin Bill Grey piloted that craft and he had never let them down.   
  
He didn't mean to let them down this day, either.   
  
Bill led Fury of Katina over the KATI embassy next, and all hands below waved as he passed. He did several circuits of the complex, using his lasers on their lowest frequency to spell out a short message on the ground. When his message was complete, a few of the soldiers rushed out to read it.   
  
It read WE WILL PREVAIL.   
  
They glanced up, cheering even louder as Bill's Arwing faded into the distance.   
  
He was laughing hysterically now, laughing at the hopelessness of the situation, laughing at the ironically blue sky, but most of all laughing because his greatest friends in all the galaxy were on their way and he wouldn't have to die alone.   
  
When finally Bill made his way back to the base, he noticed that it was teeming with extra activity. The Katinan squadrons were all bustling about now, readying their flight gear and opening the Arwing hangars. As he flew low over the base he inscribed the message just outside of the hangars, inspiring his fellow pilots to work just a little bit faster. When he landed and unboarded amidst exuberant cheers he punched a fist in the air and began singing an old Katinan war song at the top of his lungs. Every single one of them took up the call; they chanted along so loudly that the light breeze carried their voice to the people of Nexxus, who also joined in. And as Bill stared around at them all, raising their arms and their hearts high with him, his fear melted away.   
  
Off in the distance a low rumbling echoed across the sky, deep and soft but growing in volume. Gradually a few of them glanced upward in confusion, turning their heads, wondering what was causing such a tumult. Like a wave the Katinan squadron grew quiet, eyes raised in terror as Bill clambered up into his Jeep for a better view. The rumble grew louder all the time, and a few pilots even began easing nervously toward their Arwings.   
  
At long last the sound reached an ear-splitting crescendo and Rage of Macbeth burst into view over the base. The Katinans burst out in joy to see the magnificent craft of Celestra Marquette, and their cheers grew as SpiritNova and MeteoRiot came racing after it, and then Nebulafire and Acid Rain. The five did a full lap around the base then returned with Great Fox gliding along behind them. The magnitude of the cries was twice as loud this time, and Bill found that he could not hold back the tears of joy in his eyes.   
  
When the four mercenaries and their cruiser had landed and all had departed, Fox shook Bill's hand briskly. "Great to see you, Bill."   
  
"Yeah, you too," Bill said with a grin. Glancing up to the sky he asked, "Isn't Celest coming down?"   
  
Fox grinned widely and shook his head. "Nope. She says she wants you to join her."   
  
Bill's eyes glittered in happiness and he sprinted off to his green spacecraft among more lines of the war song. In a matter of seconds he had taken off again, and the people of Katina raised their voices when finally Fury of Katina and Rage of Macbeth had joined again, circling one another for the first time in several months.   
  
Falco failed to hide his reckless smile. Perhaps Celestra wasn't as bad as he had thought.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra jumped out of her Arwing and sprinted at Bill, flinging herself into his outstretched arms and nearly knocking him flat. He burst into laughter, picking her up off of the ground and spinning her in his arms.   
  
"I missed you so much!" she exclaimed when finally her feet were firmly on the ground.   
  
Bill was still so shocked that she had come to his aid that he just nodded his head, unable to speak, and buried his face in her ponytail. Behind them, the Star Fox team shared a unified laugh.   
  
"Didn't think we'd leaving you hangin', did you Grey?" Falco teased, slapping the assassin on the back with one wing.   
  
"To tell ya the truth, I thought I'd be in this one without y'all," Bill admitted sheepishly. "I'm even more surprised Anilora's comin' home just to help out."   
  
By that time, Slippy had finished running a diagnostic scan on the full two hundred spacecraft of the Katinan fleet that had been left under Bill's charge. "Only minor problems here and there, Bill, but nothing that can't be fixed. I'll get to work on them right away." With that, the technician led Peppy out of the room, on their way to tune-up the squadron.   
  
"So the captain's going to make it?" Fox asked, clearly admiring Anilora's devotion to his homeland. "Very impressive. He's got to be running on empty by now; he's been going non-stop since the battle at Sector Y."   
  
Bill nodded and gave a little sigh, running a hand down his face again. "If I could spare the guy this fight, I would. Even with his fleet, though, I'm worried we'll still be overrun."   
  
"With Anilora's squad your numbers will be right around four hundred," Falco observed with a frown. "Do you really think Andross will hit you that hard?"   
  
The male assassin nodded grimly. "I fear it'll come to that."   
  
Celestra broke away from the conversation, crossing to a nearby window and gazing earnestly at the sky for any sign of Captain Anilora and his fleet. Not only would Katina sorely need his help this day, but she had to admit that she missed him. She knew how important the frontline base was to General Pepper and the Cornerian army, and she had a sinking feeling that Andross would want control of it just as badly.   
  
Gradually Bill, Fox, and Falco's voices faded from her mind as she studied the cheery sky. Minutes slipped by more quickly as she zoned herself out of reality, and eventually her eyes glazed over and slid part-way closed.   
  
A dark cloud appeared on the northern horizon, and in her subconscious Celestra deduced that a storm was on its way. Half an hour passed, Bill and Fox still laying out defensive strategies, and Celestra marveled at the speed of the approaching clouds. She had never seen a thunderstorm move so quickly.   
  
Her head jerked up, and her eyes flew open with a jolt. The dark horizon was not a bulk of cloud, but a swarm of spacecraft, speeding toward the base like an enormous cyclone. Then, with a gasp of horror, Celestra recognized the model of the crafts: class-B Hybrid stealth.   
  
The Venomian forefront squad was on the move.   
  
"Bill!"   
  
The assassin and the pair of mercenaries rushed to her side, crowding around the window and likewise staring out in sickened awe. Far below, an alarm on the base sounded, high and shrill, and within seconds Katinan pilots were spilling out of the doors, rushing to their Arwings. Bill and Fox sprinted away down the hall and out of the front doors, calling everyone together and organizing them into attack and defense groups.   
  
Celestra slid one delicate hand into Falco's, and he tightened his grip on it without question. Very soon they would need the comfort.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Peppy and Fox led the first Katinan defensive manuever, forming a tight and formidable ring about the base and firing at any who came too close. The Hybrids numbered around one hundred, rewarding the Katinans with a two-to-one ration, and Celestra and Falco seized the odds, leading two teams of seventy-five each into the Venomian ranks and tearing them apart in minutes. When Slippy had finished prepping the rest of the Arwings he helped strengthen the defense with another thirty men, and within minutes the forefront squad had been demolished; Bill and his reinforcement squad still lurked, unseen, within a row of isolated bunkers, waiting for the opportune moment.   
  
A group of one hundred and fifty Destroyers came next, evening the odds with their incredible armor and sheer size. Falco's squadron held their own through the first assault, but Celestra's scattered in fear and broke ranks before she could call them together. The female assassin took a dive at a group of ten Destroyers, loosing a bomb in their wake and blasting a sizeable hole in their lines. Regaining hope, the two squadrons joined together behind Falco and gave her an amazing amount of backup.   
  
Upon the horizon a true storm was swelling; in the next half hour it had reached the battlefield, and it was then that the Katinan ranks suffered. Another line of Destroyers arrived, finally penetrating Falco and Celestra's groups and testing the defensive lines behind them. Still Bill did not unleash his reinforcements, knowing in his heart that the worst was still to come.   
  
Falco was the first to notice the dark, circular shape melting through a small break in the clouds; he stared at it for the longest time, studying the shape and size, and when he recognized it he knew that their forces could not stand a chance.   
  
"Mothership!" he shouted as loud as he could into the intership communicator. "Venomian mothership approaching!"   
  
Every single Katinan pilot raised their eyes to the enormous craft hovering above them. They knew what it was--one of the same starships had attacked their planet twelve years before, with disastrous results.   
  
Celestra brought her craft in line with the final line of Destroyers and let fly another bomb, which detonated and destroyed all of them. Her fleet returned to her, and she led them in pursuit of the mothership. "Falco! We're going to need some help up here!"   
  
The avian U-turned and looked back at his troops. "Hey, are we gonna prevail, or what?"   
  
He could not have chosen a better question to ask. The Katinans roared and rallied behind him and they surged forward as one livid swarm. It was a valiant effort, but the mothership had other plans. It opened up four underside hatches, and to the dismay of all, swarm upon swarm of Venomian fighters poured onto the battlefield. Falco's group caught the worst of it, getting decimated in half within seconds, and Celestra's group scattered yet again, targeted and killed one by one.   
  
"Now!" Bill shrieked, voice full of emotion, and the reinforcements surged in, rescuing Celestra and Falco none too soon. The Katinans spurred themselves into new heights of anger, using the elation they felt upon seeing Fury of Katina enter the battle against the Venomians and beating them back. The rain poured down, pounding against windshields and obscuring everyone's vision; the lightnine blazed through the black sky, striking down Katinan and Venomian alike. Slippy became overrun by seven or eight of the enemy craft, and just as they fired on him Fox rolled in front and took the blows. His Arwing couldn't tke the entire barrage, though, and he went into an uncontrollable nosedive, ejecting at the very last moment and careening into the rain as his craft collided witht he muddy ground.   
  
"SpiritNova has been shot down!" someone cried, and Celestra's eyes filled with angry tears. Over the intercom Falco screamed in denial; Bill lost his head and charged at the Venomians with reckless abandon. If his fleet hadn't followed him half-heartedly, he would have been killed as the next fleet of Venomians cascaded form the mothership's hatches.   
  
The fierce battle raged as the storm intensified; in another fifteen minutes Slippy, too, was shot out of the sky. Bill, Celestra, and Falco all joined forces for one last charge, and to the dismay of all were beaten back mercilessly. The mothership advanced, and the Katinans knew the base was lost.   
  
"Never lose heart!" a voice raged over the radio. "The day is not yet lost! We will prevail!" From a tiny break in the clouds came a single grey Arwing, glistening with the sun reflecting off its wet surface, and behind it billowed two hundred or more Katinan soldiers. Bringing up the rear was the cruiser Whitewater, and everyone gasped in disbelief, daring the believe that they had not imagined the sight.   
  
"Gilraen!" Celestra shouted, wheeling her craft to face the procession. "Your captain has come! Band together behind Captain Anilora!"   
  
Anilora took up the cry of "We will prevail!", and every man who could speak joined his strong voice. Celestra, Bill, and Falco flanked him, and the four led the greatest charge yet, struggling for every inch but slowly driving the Venomians back. When the hatches opened again Anilora was ready for the onslaught, breaking off from his comrades and concentrating every ounce of his laser fire into the open section nearest to him. The hatch couldn't hold the unbelievable pressure and it collapsed, lessening the flow of the seemingly endless force.   
  
"It's the hatches!" Falco announced. "Celest! Bill! We've got to hit the other three when they open up again!"   
  
Half of Anilora's fleet joined Peppy's thinning defenses, and the base was surrounded and safe again within minutes. When the hatches opened up again, the two assassins and the avian split off and took down all three of them. Anilora led his men on yet another mighty charge, and the Venomin forces finally began to fall into disarray.   
  
The mothership stubbornly made its way forward, and all at once it seemed to be hovering directly over the Katinan base.   
  
"What's happening?!" cried Celestra, fighting to keep control of her Arwing.   
  
"The core!" Anilora called back, coming up to her side and hovering there, eyes wide. "They're going to destroy the base!"   
  
A spindle core had dropped down from the center of the mothership, glowing with an eerie blue light. As they watched the light intensified until finally they realized that soon the enormous craft would be opening fire.   
  
Falco sped toward the core at an amazing speed, detirmined to take it out before it assaulted the base, but a wave of enemy spacecraft swarmed up to meet him. With a cry he was driven back and eventually forced to retreat. All the while the mothership gathered its energy, now gleaming so brightly that it was blinding.   
  
Far below, one last Arwing had other plans, and they did not include failure. With a mighty boost of his thrusters Bill Grey shot straight up, angling Fury of Katina vertical, in a perfect line with the tip of the core. He was tired, he decided; tired of hurting, tired of crying, tired of losing sleep at night over some evil tyrant who had not even showed his face to them.   
  
Bill was tired of worrying about his homeland and his brave kin--he would make certain that they never felt pain again.   
  
"Hey, Cap'n!" he called over the radio, and his eyes filled with white hot tears.   
  
"What, Bill?!" cried Anilora.   
  
The assassin smiled through his emotional agony. "You make sure that you take good care of Celestra, okay?" he whispered, letting the drops fall down his cheeks.   
  
Across the battlefield, Celestra and Anilora looked up together. They could just make out the small green craft spiraling upward toward the core.   
  
"Bill!!!" they cried together, but it was too late.   
  
"We will prevail!" cried Bill, and he began firing upward into the dazzing blue core.   
  
The explosion that ensued made the whole of Katina tremble, and every Katinan pilot was at a loss for words when the Venomian mothership crashed to the ground.   
  
~~*~~  
  
They all landed in a complete disarray along the charred battleground, evacuating their crafts and dancing around the mothership in jubilation. Katina was free again, and they had prevailed.   
  
Celestra stumbled out of her Arwing and stared around at all the joyous faces, wondering how on Corneria they could be so happy. Their victory had been bought at far too great a price in her eyes. It was not worth Bill Grey's life.   
  
Falco was the first to come upon her, and he was overwhelmed with pity. She stared into his dark eyes, needing support and comfort, but he found his beak glued together and could give none. Great tears streamed down her face, and without another word he went to her and wrapped her up tightly in his arms, surrounding her with his warm feathers and cooing softly through his own brimming tears. Celestra broke down, sobbing into his chest, quiet moans of despair rising into heart-wrenching wails long after Anilora, Peppy, and an injured Fox and Slippy had joined them.   
  
Far off to one side, a minor soldier stumbled across a familiar green craft. His eyes wide, he sprinted off, calling for Captain Anilora. The word flitted about anxiously that Fury of Katina had been found, and the space pilots rushed as one mass to the fallen Arwing.   
  
Celestra dropped right down to her knees in the rubble, blinking her tears away desperately and shifting the twisted metal away from the cockpit.   
  
"Celest," Falco murmured. "Don't. It's no use. He's gone."   
  
The avian was silenced a moment later when Anilora himself came forward, dropped to the assassin's side, and began aiding her in the fruitless task of digging.   
  
It seemed to take hours as everyone looked on, knowing without a doubt that Bill was long gone. Celestra and Anilora seemed beyond any rational thought, though, and eventually that uncovered the poor grey dog's body.   
  
Which was no longer smiling, but laughing weakly.   
  
"Bill?" Celestra whispered, and to everyone's amazement, Bill opened his eyes wearily and smiled.   
  
"Bill!" she cried, and she lifted up his battered body and cradled him in her arms, crying anew. "Slippy, please . . . tell me that he'll make it."   
  
The mercenary limped forward and brought forth a medical detection device. A holographic display of Bill's body materialized, detailing every one of his injuries. "He's got several broken bones and he's lost some blood, but I think we can save him."   
  
Anilora came forward and scooped the valiant Bill Grey up into his arms; the crowd parted, and they made for the nearest medical tent.   
  
~~*~~  
  
The stars shone brightly upon Katina that night, and all the soldiers and many inhabitants from Nexxus and KATI joined together and danced around the downed mothership, which was currently being used as the centerpiece for an enormous bonfire. Bill watched it all from the safety of a hospital tent, clutching hands with Celestra and Anilora. The Star Fox team filtered in and out, checking on Bill and enjoying the festivities.   
  
"Well, you two," Bill said, still grinning widely. "We did it. We prevailed."   
  
Anilora and Celestra smiled at one another and glanced as one to the bonfire. "Yes we did, Bill," Celestra whispered. "Yes we did."   
  
Across the field several people began singing the chorus to a song rather shakily, undaunted when many of the passers-by stopped to laugh at their progress. With the aid of his captain and the female assassin Bill struggled to sit up, and when he had done so he silenced all of the ill-wishers by giving his voice to the singers, and then the voices rang out strong and true. Everyone within earshot picked up the song and added to the heartfelt sound, and the heavens trembled with emotion to hear the melody that cried not only for the victory of Katina, but for the whole of Lylat.   
  
"We came in fear and we came in doubt  
  
To meet our destiny,  
  
The battle's won, we made it out  
  
And one day we'll be free  
  
The time has come to get up, rise  
  
Through fire, wind, and hail,  
  
The wrath of Venom fills our skies  
  
But together we will prevail  
  
  
  
Yes, the time has come to rise back up  
  
And show we'll never fail,  
  
Raise your voice, we've had enough  
  
Katina will prevail." 


	11. Chapter Ten: The Blue Marine

Chapter Ten: "The Blue Marine"   
  
Four days of endless jubilation had taken place before Anilora could drag himself away from his home planet, but he could delay his return to Corneria no longer. Word had reached General Pepper from his defensive base on Fortuna that an unseen evil was stirring in the oceans of Aquas, so it seemed only necessary that the Katinan captain again allied forces. He departed in the late afternoon with roughly the same numbers he had arrived with, and hundreds of his kin were present to see him off.   
  
Celestra, with Falco only a few feet behind her, found that she was not as distressed at his departure as she would have been a few weeks ago.   
  
Bill, Fox, and Slippy returned to full action the next day, their bodies cryogenically healed by the top medical associates in Nexxus. The day after that, ROB announced that General Pepper had a new mission on hand, so it was with great regret that Star Fox and the pair of assassins withdrew into Great Fox on the sixth day after Katina's big victory.   
  
"If you would have tried to tell me last week that you would all live through an ordeal such as that, I'm not so sure that I would have believed you," Pepper admitted with a sheepish smile. The six of them pulled chairs around the G-Diffuser screen, laughing at their employer as they did so.   
  
"Didn't think we could handle the big bad Venomians, General?" Bill teased, stretching full out in his chair.   
  
"Figured we'd get our faces ground into the dirt?" Falco added with a smirk. The laughter intensified.   
  
Pepper held up his hands in defeat to quiet the lot of them. "Alright, forgive my lack of faith," he began in exasperation, "and I would like very much to reward you with a well-deserved rest, but I fear important events have arisen concerning all of you that I cannot ignore.   
  
"First and foremost, our allies heading the underwater Aquatica center have provided us with intelligence concerning Lylat's eighth planet, Aquas. Specialists detect very abnormal activity stirring beneath the surface, leading us to believe that Andross has begun construction of a sub-aquatic bio-weapon. If we were to allow such an instrument of destruction to unleash itself in the ocean, life on Aquas may very well be completely wiped out."   
  
"We don't have any water craft capable of such a mission," Fox pointed out, gesturing at a holographic grid detailing every one of the hangars within Great Fox.   
  
"Waverunners, sure, but nothing with the diving capacity you're talking about," Celestra added glumly.   
  
Pepper sighed in exasperation and lowered his gaze. "What other options have we?"   
  
Behind his comrades, Slippy shifted uncomfortably. Peppy noticed and raised a furry eyebrow. "What's the problem, Slip?"   
  
The youngest mercenary glanced up, one eye twitching slightly, and whimpered nervously. "Well, I never told you guys this, but I built and modified my own two-man submarine."   
  
The room fell very still.   
  
"It's called the Blue Marine. I recently upgraded the laser capacity to hold grade-A hyper beams; the thing's got the new line of Titanian engines, it can really motor, you know. The biggest problem is that I haven't had a chance to give her a test run, so I'm not sure she'll be fully functional--"   
  
"Mission accepted, General," Falco interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Let's move on."   
  
Pepper cleared his throat loudly, seemingly not reassured. "The second misson is not for the five of you, but for Bill alone.   
  
"Although the efforts given on Fortuna were undoubtedly great, all four members of Star Wolf and Reivin Frost survived."   
  
Bill covered his face with his hands and turned away from the others, forcing back a disgusted ball of bile that threatened to well in his throat. He didn't know why he was surprised; he could no longer count the number of times he had attempted to put an end to Andross's top five supporters and found out later that they had somehow escaped the fate they deserved yet again. Subconsciously Bill ran his fingers along a four-inch scar that ran along the side of his neck, remembering well the scenario and traitor that had dealt it to him.   
  
Suddenly not only was his path through life littered with obstacles, it seemed to be sloping uphill at an impossible ascent.   
  
Bill felt a hand at his shoulder and knew that Celestra was trying to comfort him. The words rang in his ears when she said, "Sir, with your permission, I would like to accompany Bill on his mission."   
  
Pepper frowned. "Your teammates need you now, Marquette."   
  
"My best friend needs me now as well."   
  
But the male assassin shrugged out of her hold and turned back, forcing a grin. "Let it go, Celest. General's right, y'know--in the grand scheme o' things, this bio-weapon thing is a hell of a lot more important. Reivin and I have a score to settle--and I mean to honor it." Then, to Pepper, he asked, "Where can I find him? We don't have his flight path off o' Fortuna."   
  
"He never left, according to Fortunan radar. Sensors indicate that Star Wolf returned to Venom following their defeat, but for some reason Frost chose to remain."   
  
"Makes it easier for me to find him anyway," Bill affirmed lightly, shouldering his knapsack and making for the door of the briefing room. "He's itchin' for a rematch with Celest--bet he'll be surprised to see me, aye?"   
  
Celestra crossed her arms and gave a great sigh. "Damn it, Grey, take care of yourself, you hear me?"   
  
"Yeah, don't go getting yourself killed," Fox added.   
  
With a smile that seemed both reassuring and sickening, Bill waved and exited.   
  
"Good luck to the rest of you," Pepper murmured, then he, too, was gone.   
  
"So this is a two-man craft you've got, Slip?" Fox inquired, sitting in an armchair and twining his fingers together. "If you pilot it, I'll run weapons for you."   
  
Celestra looked to Falco, who grinned widely. "Better get your swim trunks, Lombardi--I know for a fact that there are two waverunners in that hangar."   
  
Peppy sighed and massaged the back of his neck. "Guess I'll give the pair of you air cover--you're more likely to shoot each other or drown yourselves than get caught by the bad guys."   
  
~~*~~  
  
In roughly twenty hours of hyperspace travel, Great Fox had entered Aquas airspace and was slowly orbiting an area of sea into which Blue Marine would soon submerge. Celestra knocked rapidly on Falco's door, spinning her familiar plasma guns in her slender hands excitedly as the avian rushed to answer.   
  
Falco tugged his bedroom door open and had to literally remind himself to glue his beak shut. The assassin, normally clad in denim shorts and black flight attire, had completely altered her code of dress for the water mission: she was wearing a navy blue bikini top and a pair of silver work-out shorts. Only her combat boots and heavily-laden utility belt remained; her hair, as always, was pulled back away from her pale face.   
  
"Gotta say," he choked out, moving aside to let her enter, "water was never really my thing."   
  
Celestra shook her head and chuckled at the sight of the avian's room; unlike her own, his was cluttered and disorganized. "I can see where it would be a problem, you having feathers and all."   
  
"Shut up," Falco retorted, gathering his own weapons belt and beckoning to her. "Let's go already."   
  
The pair of them marched down the hall, Falco leading in a pair of black swim trunks and old tennis shoes, Celestra a few paces behind, fiddling with the frequency of her weapons' fire and studying the taut outlines of muscle in the avian's bare back in interest. He had to lift weights often, she decided, for his upper body was a chiseled piece of athletic perfection and he was physically fit in every way. If possible, Falco was just as strong as Bill, whose house contained its own weights complex that he undoubtedly spent hours in every day.   
  
They turned into the hall containing all hangars together, feeling the sultry, warm ocean air waft pleasantly against their faces as Fox and Slippy prepped Blue Marine in front of an open hangar. Peppy was nowhere to be seen, but Nebulafire was gone so they assumed that he was already in the sky waiting for them. Falco led the assassin around to the adjacent hangar and gestured to their transports for the day--a pair of black and white waverunners.   
  
The water craft would have been normal and safe, but it was clear that they had been tampered with. Actually, Falco himself had modified the two transports, wiring in two adamantite lasers on each side that were capable of firing multiple shots at a time. A small antennae on the back of each waverunner (only a few inches in height) projected a shield much like those that protected their Arwings, encompassing even the underside of the craft and creating a bubble that would keep its rider safe.   
  
Celestra pressed a button in the wall of the hangar and put her face close to a miniscule speaker. "ROB, open the hatch for Falco and me, will you?"   
  
"Affirmative," came the cyborg's voice, and with a low rumble the hangar lifted into the ceiling, leaving the avian and the assassin with nebula light glancing off the cerulean surface mere feet below and a cool ocean spray in their faces.   
  
"You've got your standard G-Diffuser system hooked up to that console there," Falco explained, pointing to the helm just below and between the handlebars. "The red button on the side of your right handlebar brings up the shields; the green on on the left handlebar fires your lasers. Keep in mind that I never got the chance to test these things, and don't bite my head off if something gets screwed up."   
  
Rolling her eyes, Celestra leaned against the wall and stared out at the sparkling water, waiting for Blue Marine to deploy so they could follow.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Slippy tested the identical joysticks with his agile hands, re-memorizing the controls and attacks for the ump-teenth time in the past three months. This submarine had haunted the technician's spare time since before the Lylat War had begun, and when Pepper had called on the Star Fox team to lead the forces against Andross, Slippy had known his creation would be needed sometime soon. It was a work of art for the youngest mercenary, equipped with sub-atomic missiles as well as the highest frequency hyper beams available, and the new model Titanian engines would give them extra boosts of speed in the event that the water pressure compromised Blue Marine's outside. Fox could only look on in awe as the thirteen-year-old walked the controls through intricate manuevers, testing the mobility of the internal components.   
  
"All systems prepared for deployment, Slippy," came ROB's voice over the submarine's intercome. "Shields and engines at maximum, hyperbeams warming, missiles prepped and ready to fire. Requesting permission to submerge."   
  
"Permission granted," Slippy replied without hestitation. "Let's go to work."   
  
Fox positioned himself at the weapons console, testing the mobility again fro his comrades' sake, and with a soft whoosh they had ejected from the hangar. Slippy caught a fleeting glimpse of Nebulafire in the sky before they dove beneath the surface.   
  
His moment had come.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Falco was dragging his waverunner to the brink when he saw Blue Marine enter the water. Turning to regard Celestra, who was shoving her craft along several feet behind, he said, "Can't you go any faster, Celest? It's time to go."   
  
The assassin paused at his side, glancing down at the churning waves and deducing that Fox and Slippy had begun their search for the bio-weapon. More than studying the shadow of the sub sinking down into the inky depths, though, Celestra was calculating the number of feet they would have to fall to make it down. Falco slung a wing around her shoulders and pulled her to his side, grinning widely.   
  
"Don't like heights much?" the avian teased.   
  
Celestra nosed the waverunner over to the edge until it was balancing precariously. "I just have this thing with death-defying free-falls into monster-infested waters," she responded sarcastically.   
  
Falco laughed heartily and tightened his grip on her for just a moment before letting go. "Well said." He straddled his craft, smirking when she did the same. "On three, got it?"   
  
"Sure, whatever. One--"   
  
"--Two--"   
  
"--Three!" In unison they kicked off the edge of the hangar and careened twenty feet toward the ocean, screaming as one with the thrill of the fall, and hit the surface, luckily landing right-side up and still on their mounts. The lukewarm water gushed up over their legs as the waverunners absorbed the impact; droplets shone in the avian's bright feathers and in Celestra's dark hair, and they revved the engines to life.   
  
"You dead yet, Marquette?"   
  
Celestra shot him an acidic look. "Sorry to disappoint you, Lombardi." And together they shot off across the aqua cascade, weaving in between one another as their shields came up around them, sparkling at their maximum. Peppy's engines surged, and his Arwing soared along above and behind.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Kelp and seaweed danced along a few yards beneath the submarine's belly; several harmless sea creatures scuttled to clear the way, and Blue Marine drifted serenely ahead, powerul lights illuminating the areas ahead of their current position.   
  
Fox had never witnessed anything so perfectly beautiful in his entire life as Slippy turned a corner and an entire underwater ruin came into view. Great ivory and onyx remains of a once majestic city glimmered within the white sand; stacks of multicolored stones engraved with ancient runes dotted the ocean bottom. Slippy slowed their pace, and Fox shook himself from the sight.   
  
"A defensible position," Slippy responded to his wing commanders' unspoken question. Fox nodded and tightened his paws about the weapons' joysticks, confident that they would soon see battle, and with a quick intake of breath, Slippy proceeded.   
  
The pair of them had not moved forward fifteen feet when a dozen reelene, starfish-shaped monstrosities, filtered out from behind various piles of ruins and stone.   
  
Slippy drove the sub hard to the left, giving Fox an opportunity to unleash a barrage of missiles at those on the left flank as they rolled. One reelene collided with the reat, but Blue Marine took the hit stoically and opened fire with dazzling shots of blue hyperbeam. More of the starfish poured out from concealed areas, diving at the underwater craft, and Slippy was hard-pressed to evade with unending precision. The shields bleeped once as another reelene rammed into the right flank, but Fox was ready with a second line of missiles, slamming into the bulk of their assailants and scattering those lucky enough to survive the strike. The technician seized the moment to motor through the ruins, spinning into another roll as a verdana, a sub-aquatic dragon, sliced through the water inches from the hull.   
  
"That was living, breathing proof of why I fly an Arwing," Fox gasped out, steadying his radically trembling paws.   
  
Slippy was grinning maniacally. "This is the coolest thing I've ever done!" He pressed a few buttons on his helm and a radar reading encompassed their entire windshield, mapping out the area of ocean around them for twenty miles around. Several white blips were migrating ahead, and to the northwest blinked a single, larger white dot, isolated from the rest of the environment.   
  
"Is that--?" Fox began as he booted up the G-Diffuser system.   
  
"Bingo," Slippy confirmed. "Andross's sub-aquatic bio-weapon." Re-angling Blue Marine to run a straight path in the direction of the largest blip, he added, "Make sure Falco and Celestra are aware that a score or so of those reelene are going to surface soon; according to these coordinates, they'll be within yards."   
  
~~*~~  
  
"This is tight!" Falco cried happily over the wind and spray. "Now all we need is an inner tube and some adult beverages."   
  
Celestra's damp ponytail slapped the back of her neck as she cornered and dodged around to Falco's left side. "You might not care much for Fox's most recent news, then. We've got reelene just below us, surfacing at a rapid pace."   
  
Falco glanced over at her, booting up the white fire of his adamantite lasers as he did so. "Damn it, that's the last straw. I'm putting in for a vacation. They're trying to ruin our fun by sending us a bunch of mutant starfish!"   
  
"You can always do what I do," Celestra offered, readying her hand beside the button that unleashed laser fire. "Give yourself a vacation and conveniently forget to mention where you've gone and when you'll be back."   
  
The avian's laugh came out as a strangled yell as the ocean exploded around the pair of waverunners and twenty or so reelene burst into the radiant sunshine, diving wildly for the assassin and mercenary. Falco proved to be as successful at manuevering the water craft as he was at flawlessly piloting an Arwing; he pivoted magnificently across the waves in amazing figure-eight formations, firing effortlessly at any creature in his line of sight. So great was his skill that Celestra, still learning the controls, barely got in a shot.   
  
Just as the last of the reelene sank dead beneath the surface, the blue-grey, leathery wings of the verdana assaulted the pair as it broke the waves; water cascaded from the great thing's back as it ascended into the air above them, letting out an unearthly shriek and beating its wings furiously. Celestra killed the engines of her craft and spun her handheld lasers into her hands, but the plasma fire seemed only to anger the massive creature as it rose higher into the air to strike.   
  
Its only fatal mistake was flying just high enough to intersect the flight path of Nebulafire.   
  
Peppy swooped in, thrusters boosted to maximum, and opened fire on the verdana, razing long lines of scorched flesh along the monsters' neck and back. Its wings buckled as it screeched in pain, dropping several hundred feet in altitude, only to be attacked mercilessly by the female assassin. But as the aqua dragon dove, swooping and crying in agony, its tail sideswiped Falco's waverunner. The avian was thrown from the craft, unconscious, and sank, swallowed up by the churning water.   
  
Celestra re-holstered her lasers and signaled for Peppy to finish the creature as she dove in after him.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"Lombardi's been unseated," Slippy reported as Blue Marine sliced quickly through the dark depths.   
  
Fox looked up from the radar readout, eyes alarmed. "Vitals?"   
  
"Stable, but he's unconscious."   
  
The mercenary leader ran a hand through the fur between his ears and exhaled sharply. "He could be in for the long haul; between monsters and unconsciousness he could very well meet his maker."   
  
Without warning, the small picture insignia next to Falco's flashed red and an identical red X appeared over Celestra's face. "Fox, it looks like Celestra's been taken out, too."   
  
Fox wrung his hands together madly and glanced about, looking for some shred of comfort. If he lost two-fifths of his team today there would be no telling what he would do in his grief. "V-Vitals?" he stammered in fear.   
  
Slippy re-checked Celestra's health readouts with bated breath, then his eyes widened. "Fully conscious and fully active. It looks as though she ejected."   
  
"She's going after Lombardi!" Fox hissed in relief.   
  
"Yes, and we have to pray she'll get to him in time," Slippy remarked, tightening his hands about the joysticks guiding his prized submarine. "We're only a mile or two away from the bio-weapon."   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra shuddered as she powered down through wave after wave of merciless cold; suddenly just being below the ocean's surface brought chills through her body. The silhouette of Falco's prone form was descending further into the depths several feet below, and the assassin had to work hard to close the gap between them. Every so often she heard the sizzle of a misfired laser shoot through the dark water as Peppy battled the verdana above, but aside from that the world seemed to have grown strangely quiet as she traversed the realm under the sea.   
  
A trio of reelene spiraled up from the depths, encircling the avian with their tiny gnashing teeth, and Celestra propeled forward, firing with one plasma gun and grabbing at Falco's feathers. The creatures scattered without further incentive, and Celestra pulled Falco against her, turning and making for the faint shreds of sunlight reflecting off the ocean waves.   
  
She was perhaps five feet from breaking the surface when she felt pressure at her ankles and could no longer kick. Glancing down she could just make out the shadow of an enormous octopus-like monster called a naidat, with oozing orange skin and eight sticky tentacles, one of which was wrapping tightly about her ankles.   
  
Celestra opened her mouth to curse, but all that came out was a wealth of miniature air bubbles.   
  
The assassin lashed out with her right arm, punching at the tentacle as she struggled to keep ahold of Falco, but the thing's grip only tightened and pulled her further down, away from the sun. Stars were swimming in her line of vision as she fumbled with the butterfly knife within her boot; her lungs screamed for oxygen, but somehow she sublimated her fear of suffocation and stabbed desperately at the naidat. The creature shrieked and loosened its grip, and Celestra stabbed hard one last time and set her sights again on the sun.   
  
The oxygen revitalized her lungs not a moment too soon, and Celestra gasped and spluttered as she held Falco's head above the surface. One of the waverunners was bobbing belly-up nearby, and she pumped her one free arm madly and slowly gained on it.   
  
When finally Celestra had slung the avian's body over the seat of the waverunner, he was neither moving nor breathing and she could not detect a pulse of any kind.   
  
"Come on, Falco, you can't just drop dead whenever it's convenient for you," Celestra muttered as she floated, still rather cold, at his side. "Don't start thinking you can just kick off and leave me here."   
  
Celestra hoisted herself up onto the rear of the craft, straddling the seat and Falco's body and prying his beak open. A few trickles of ocean water seeped down the corners of his mouth, and without any hesitation she covered his mouth with hers and blew two lungfuls of air. Then she rose and pumped his chest twenty times or so, and repeated the process.   
  
Two minutes later Falco was coughing up mouthfuls of water, and Celestra was in the seat again, shivering but steadying the craft without protest as the avian literally came back to life.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"Fox, Slippy, do you copy? This is Peppy, over."   
  
Fox fumbled with the G-Diffuser at the helm of the submarine for a moment. "Please tell me that our crazy friends are alive, Peppy."   
  
"Affirmative. Celestra and Falco are both alive, and by the looks of things they're going off on their way again, heading in the same direction as you are."   
  
Slippy re-checked the radar screen one last time and it flickered off. "We're in the near vacinity of the bio-weapon now, Peppy, and chances are it'll be extremely well protected. You three stand by for any more disturbances."   
  
"You've got it." Peppy terminated the communication.   
  
"How close are we, Slip?" asked Fox.   
  
Slippy was glancing about nervously now, hands trembling in anticipation upon the controls. "A few hundred yards. Should be any second now."   
  
The pair glided ahead with bated breath and wide eyes, straining to catch a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary, their hands memorizing the controls of their respective posts yet again. Directly above them, Celestra and Falco skimmed the water on their waverunners and displayed similar signs of anxiety. Peppy, content merely to wait for danger as opposed to looking for it, set his Arwing on a dull hover and clasped his hands behind his head, watching warily and waiting for signs of hostile movement.   
  
Slippy caught a glimpse of it first and immediately powered down the main thrusters, slowing their forward momentum. With amazing reflexes the young mercenary sent Blue Marine through a series of quick lunges and barrel-rolls, eyes wide as dinner plates as an enormous echo resounded when the sub was hit with remarkable force. He was quick, though, and just managed to reverse direction, putting enough distance between them craft and their assailant so the battering momentarily ceased.   
  
"Er . . . I don't see anything," Fox protested sheepishly.   
  
With a profound sigh, Slippy sent the radar screen spiraling back across the windshield, and Fox gasped.   
  
Planted directly in their path was the most enormous oyster shell the mercenary leader had ever seen in his lifetime of strange occurences. The outer shell was milky-white and seemed to have gained a few passengers during its growth, for a trio of anemones decorated the hard surface. The protective tendrils waved ominously, through, suggesting that the anemones had guests of their own. When the shell gaped open they could see a pair of pearl-emitting producters, the taut pink ligaments of its monstrous jaw, and a single, multicolored eye that danced around its socket as though immensely pleased to see the pair of them. Then the shell snapped shut with a crack.   
  
"Ah, thanks," Fox continued as the shock wave carried Blue Marine back several feet. "I see it now."   
  
Slippy was clearly not paying his wing commander any attention, or if he was he did not offer any retaliatory comments. Under his practiced hands the submarine danced gracefully through the inky depths, dodging another round of pearls as they spewed from the productors. "Fox! Can you hit those anemones?"   
  
"What good will that do?!"   
  
"Do you see anything else to shoot at?!"   
  
Fox cursed and opened fire with the hyper beams as Slippy continued to evade with a series of magnificent rolls and dives. The lasers sizzled through the water and arced the entire upper lip of the shell, plowing into the anemones with massive force. Upon impact the laser burned through the rubbery exoskeleton and the creatures shrieked shrilly, releasing an elongated sea snake, an admura, from each. The three admuras spiraled upward, making for the surface, and the bio-weapon unleashed yet another wave of pearls.   
  
"You were supposed to kill them," Slippy remarked, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in anxiety.   
  
Fox was still firing madly at the waving tentacles of the anemones, canines bared in concentration. "I'm a bit busy, Slip." A pearl slammed into one side of the sub, creating a dent in the metal, and Fox stumbled but was flung away from the weapons' helm.   
  
Slippy somehow kept his feet and continued to evade the never-ending barrage. It was his turn to save the day, he decided, and nothing could quench the fire in his eyes.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"What's that sound?" Celestra asked.   
  
Falco stalled his engine and turned his head from side to side, straining to discern the source of the odd, sucking sound meeting his ears. He had been to Aquas before during his career alongside Fox, but not enough times to be considered an expert of psychotic oceanic creatures. He cast a passive glance down, and his eyes widened. "Uh, Celest, we've got company."   
  
The assassin followed his gaze and could just make out the trio of slender, narrow bodies darting for the surface. "Admura!" she cried, and the ocean around them exploded.   
  
Admura greatly resembled enormous sea snakes, perhaps fifty feet in length but only fire feet around. The skin stretched across their slender forms was blue-grey and rubbery, so strong that it repelled the laser fire from Peppy's craft. But Falco had designed and built the waverunners well, and the adamantite core of their laser beams sliced easily through the smooth flesh. The pair tore one admura apart while attacking in tandem; Falco eliminated one by himself, and then Celestra began to have difficulties.   
  
Celestra cut a hard right turn to rejoin Falco, who was attacking the last admura from about twenty feet away, when the creature rounded on her, bared its two-inch long teeth, and clamped down on the front of her waverunner. The assassin screamed as it lifted her and the craft into the air, and with a mighty surge of its jaw muscles the admura bit the craft in half. Celestra careened thirty feet and plunged back into the water, resurfacing a few seconds later and already firing at the towering monster.   
  
Her plasma lasers bounced right off its flesh.   
  
"Celestra!" cried Falco, whipping his waverunner about in a ninety degree angle to face her. "Swim to me! Swim hard!"   
  
Without any further prompting she re-holstered her guns and began a quick breast-stroke in the direction of the avian's waverunner; he stretched out one hand, she grabbed for it, and he hoisted her up and fired the engines just as the admura dove for them. Its jaws missed them by mere feet, and Celestra gripped Falco's waist tightly as he increased their speed.   
  
"What now?" Celestra called in Falco's ear.   
  
"Now I finally get to be better than you at something," Falco shouted over his shoulder, revving the engine again and skimming across the water, picking up speed.   
  
They circled the admura swiftly for several minutes, studying it for signs of wavering attention, and as soon as it began to tire Falco spurred the craft into new heights of speed and zoomed up its back. Before the creature could buck them off they had veered away, at a perfect angle with its head, and fired mercilessly. As the last admura crashed dead below the waves, Falco and Celestra collapsed against one another, dissolved into fits of exhausted laughter.   
  
~~*~~  
  
At roughly the same time, Fox and Slippy had eliminated the last of the anemones and the ocean lay quiet, an ominous concept as the pair of mercenaries stared down the truly devastating bio-weapon.   
  
"What's it doing?" Fox whispered harshly, as though the oyster could hear his words.   
  
Slippy squinted through the gloom, hands still ready at the primary controls. "I'm not too sure."   
  
Even as he finished responding the shell creaked open, single eyes lolling around tantilizingly as it unleashed the greatest double-barrage of pearls yet, nearly overwhelming the men as they struggled to regain lost ground. Three of the great stones rapped against the submarine, slicing great chunks out of the protective metal and dropping the shield energy by half. Fox let fly torpedo after torpedo, blasting great gaps in the endless stream of pearls, but it was a blocking technique only and did no real damage to the oyster.   
  
"Ligaments," Slippy muttered to himself.   
  
Fox cocked his head. "Sorry?"   
  
The youngest mercenary tipped his head in the direction of the gaping shell; for the first time since the battle had ensued Fox studied the two taut muscles supporting the upper portion. If the higher half of the shell were to collapse with enough force, might the pearl productors also be destroyed and their way cleared? Hope renewed, the vulpine feverishly punched a few buttons.   
  
With a spark, the submarine shut down.   
  
From somewhere in the darkness to his left, Fox heard Slippy shriek, "What the hell did you do?!"   
  
"I don't know!" Fox screamed in reply. "What happened?!"   
  
Slippy continued to boot up various skematics of Blue Marine's interior, cursing to himself. "The poison in the control rods has been cut off."   
  
Fox bared his canines in frustration. "How about speaking a language I know, Slippy?"   
  
"When the poison in the control rods decreases, more neutrons get into the fuel rods and everything overheats. We have to wait for everything to cool down before the sub can function properly."   
  
"And this is where?"   
  
The toad grinned at the ironic stupidity of it all. "The nuclear reactor."   
  
"And that's really important, right?"   
  
"Very." As an afterthought, Slippy added, "You failed your Cornerian physics field class, didn't you?"   
  
The vulpine scowled deeply. "Yes, but I was never the one who wanted to be a technical worker for Arspace; that was you. I just wanted to teach at the Flight Academy."   
  
Another gigantic pearl blindsided Blue Marine and sent both mercenaries crashing to the floor; for the first time on the entire mission the shields flashing the warning signal. Slippy struggled back to his feet and was more than a little alarmed when his commander did not do the same. The toad skittered back to his knees and felt around blindly on the ground for Fox's prone form; he was unconscious.   
  
The youngest Star Fox member, already nervous, suddenly found himself truly alone, surronded by water pollution, kneeling in an overheated submarine and facing Andross's worst plot to date.   
  
'Can't panic!' his mind screamed through the shield gauge warnings. 'I can fix this stupid thing, I just need . . . '   
  
"ROB!" he cried desperately into the emergency communications speaker. "I need a nuclear reactor coolant pronto! The sub's getting hammered and we've lost all power except limited backup!"   
  
For several horrible seconds Slippy was afraid that he was without backup as well, but then ROB said "Working" in his dull monotone and half a minute later a smal can of the stuff had materialized in a small canister upon the helm. Relieved beyond his growing panic, Slippy seized the bottle and poured about a quarter of the blue liquid down a dime-sized chute near him, praying to any deity that would listen for his wonderful craft to be quick on the recovery. He waited feverishly, one hand clutching a joystick of motion, the other ready at the weapons helm.   
  
With a little jolt and a myriad of flashing lights, Blue Marine hummed back to life.   
  
"Back in the game!" Slippy exclaimed, and he surged forward, rolling just in time to evade a pearl that may have spelled doom for his creation. "Alright you sad excuse for--damn, this stuff never sounds heroic when I say it." Shaking his head and grinning in a suicidal manner, he fired without mercy upon the ligament nearest to him, slamming it with both lasers and torpedoes until the taut muscle snapped in half, accompanied by an angry wail from the monstrous oyster.   
  
"You're not gettin' away . . . "   
  
Another pearl crashed into the side of the submarine and Slippy shouted a string of curses when a tiny jet of ocean water began sprinkling the metal floor. In his rage the mercenary was able to eradicate the other ligament; without those two muscles the top half of the oyster shell plummeted down and crashed down upon the lower half. When the sand clouds settled again Slippy crowed in victory, for the pearl productors had been brutally shattered.   
  
"Just you and me now, buddy," the young toad sneered, and still cackling at his genius he let fly one final torpedo, which penetrated the unprotected eye and at last put an end to Andross's bio-weapon.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"Okay already, Slip--we owe you big for your quick thinking," Fox confessed later on when he and his three teammates had gathered around a large pot of black coffee in the back of the briefing room. "You definitely saved the day."   
  
"You gotta admit," Falco began, swigging from his mug smoothly and pouring another. "I did a great job today, too."   
  
Fox, Peppy, and Slippy burst into laughter, Falco joining them after a moment. "The only real useful thing you did today was drown yourself, kid," Peppy insisted.   
  
Slippy poked the avian in the arm. "Nope, he's still alive. Damn--I mean, thank goodness!" Falco threw his arms about Slippy's neck in an inescapable headlock, and the youngest mercenary floundered his arms as Fox and Peppy snickered.   
  
"By the way, where's Celestra?" Fox asked.   
  
Falco released Slippy and even straightened the toad's baseball cap for him. "I think she's asleep--maybe I should go steal her boots or something." The avian rose and started off down the hall, grinning to himself.   
  
His comrades hadn't noticed him turn left in the direction of the docking bay, as opposed to right, the only route to living quarters.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"I honestly thought you were joking."   
  
Celestra turned to face Falco, and for the second time that day the avian had to remind himself to keep his beak closed. The normally conservative assassin was wearing a pair of white-washed blue jeans and a white spaghetti-strap shirt, but her black hair, as always, was pulled back away from her face. Falco made a mental note to comment on this at a later time. "What, about your little vacation? Why would I joke about something like that?"   
  
Falco dusted off his baggy black jeans unnecessarily and absently straightened his grey tank top. "I'm not sure--it just seemed like the sort of thing you'd do to get a rise out of me."   
  
The assassin smirked and ran one hand idly along the speedboat towering about the pair of them, their transportation of choice to escape Great Fox. The boat was quite beautiful, a great white majestic thing with a glittery navy finish and the name Cerulean Breeze spiraled across the back. "I'm glad you've labeled me such a pleasant person, Lombardi."   
  
"Aw, come on, Celest," the avian begged, opening the hangar and slinging himself into the speedboat. "Let's try and get along on this little excursion, can't we?"   
  
She crossed her arms. "Depends on where you're taking me."   
  
"I know where I'm taking you; you'll know when we get there," he answered with a wink.   
  
Celestra accepted his hand and leapt into the boat with him; in a matter of minutes the pair had left the Great Fox and their comrades far behind them in a cloud of mist. 


	12. Chapter Eleven: Downfall

Chapter Eleven: "Downfall"   
  
With the wind whistling incessantly in his ears and whipping its unpleasant chill at the nape of his neck, Bill Grey trudged along, hands nestled deeply in his pockets but clutching a pair of daggers. He had been trekking along for roughly an hour since his landing in the mountain valleys of northern Fortuna, and he didn't know it, but as he had arrived Slippy had successfully destroyed the bio-weapon within the oceans of Aquas. Rotten luck had rewarded Bill with a faulty radar, so locating Reivin (undoubtedly the most crafty man he had ever known) would end up being quite a challenge indeed.   
  
"But I'll find ya," he murmured aloud through the cold breeze. "We're gonna have a nice little chat, Frost--with guns and knives."   
  
Only twenty minutes later Bill stumbled across the remnants of a campsite. Bending low to inspect the ground the assassin discerned that a fire had been put out not long ago, and the ashes had been meticulously tended to. All else was still in perfect harmony with its original surroundings; rising to his feet again Bill dusted off the knees of his pants and chuckled to himself. "Crafty but pleasantly predictable as always," he re-alliterated, and casting one last affirming glance at the ground he slightly altered his course and continued on.   
  
Reivin, as yet concealed within the overhang of several pine trees, crossed his arms and shook his head in amusement. "Naivety I can always count on, my dear Grey," he whispered maliciously under his breath, and he soundlessly slunk back under full cover of the trees, making his way down the slope and to the end of the fake campsite trail. The raven couldn't deny Bill's impeccable tracking skills, but he could always lure the wily Katinan to the place of his choosing by such a device.   
  
A mere five minutes after that, Bill had reached the end of the trail--and a small grass and twig fire near which sat Reivin Frost, basking in both the bite of the wind through his ebony feathers and the warmth of the meager tongues of flame. Bill said nothing at first, but contented himself with quickly perusing the area for opportune fighting places; Reivin had always been a very intelligent, calculating duelist.   
  
The evil assassin turned his eyes upon his nemesis and spread his wings wide. "Ah, Bill--welcome to my humble camp. I do trust you found your way easily enough?"   
  
Bill let his knapsack fall onto the dusty stones littering the ground and sat across the fire, already feeling as though a few square inches of flame wouldn't be nearly enough to keep them separated; he doubted strongly an entire wall of fire could. "You set me up, Reivin," he answered, voice just as icy calm as his adversary's. "I'm not some trackin' novice--those ash trails were deliberate."   
  
"Believe what you will," Reivin said with a dismissive shrug. "I knew if I remained here long enough Pepper would send his little lap-dogs after me. You see how I have been rewarded?" As Bill seethed at the insult, Reivin turned away and produced two bottles of a Zonessian herbal drink, offering one to the man across from him. "Tea? I might as well be a good host before I murder you."   
  
Bill frowned at the bottle. "What's in it?"   
  
"Arsenic," Reivin said, rolling his eyes. "Poison isn't very honorable, my dear Bill--the drink has not been tampered with."   
  
The Katinan accepted and downed one-third in a few seconds. "Might as well comply before I murder you."   
  
Reivin snickered. "Indeed."   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra and Falco docked just offshore of one of the main islands lining the Jade Coast, a chunk of land fifty miles around calle Fariel. It was late in the afternoon when the avian led his female comrade to a small outside diner by a bay, surrounded by lush willow trees and several clumps of flowery bushes dotted with strawberry-colored buds of akrila. They were seated by a charming female squirrel at a side table set for two, not speaking for several minutes as they soaked in the dying nebula light through the trees and the sweet fragrance of sauteed reelene and rose oil. Their waiter, a diminuitive koala with unnaturally large eyes, came by and set out silverware for them and asked what they would like to drink.   
  
"You don't drink, do you?" Falco asked idly.   
  
Celestra shrugged. "Wine. Normally zinfandel."   
  
"Pink?"   
  
"White."   
  
Falco ordered a glass of sangria and studied Celestra closely until she noticed and asked, "What?"   
  
The avian leaned back casually in his chair and continued to eye her as a smirk curled up his beak. "You look like you're feeling strangely out of place, kid."   
  
Celestra shrugged again and dropped her gaze to the lacy tablecloth, fiddling with the ends of her dark hair in what was clearly an uncomfortable fashion. Falco grinned to himself and leaned forward, forcing her to look him in the eye, and with one simple question he had cleared the atmosphere of tension: "What, you've never been out on a date before?"   
  
The assassin burst into laughter, sincerely grateful that he was treating this aspect of her life lightly instead of walking on eggshells. "I thought this was your vacation?"   
  
"It was," Falco admitted. "But if you throw a cute girl into the whole situation it becomes a date."   
  
The waiter returned with their drinks and proceeded to place their orders; Celestra sipped slowly at her wine as Falco continued, "So are you trying to tell me you've never gone out with Bill?"   
  
"Bill's my closest childhood friend," Celestra pointed out. "Our relationship has never been anything more, and I'm grateful."   
  
"What about that captain guy, Anilora?" the avian pressed.   
  
At those words Celestra's gaze clouded, and she stared back down at the table. Falco cursed himself severly. "Celest, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"   
  
"Oh, shut up, Falco," the assassin said with a shadow of a smile. "You didn't upset me, I just often wonder how different my life would be if Gilraen and I had decided to walk down that path. Not that we haven't talked about it--several times, in fact--it's just that our lives are so complicated . . .   
  
"I was sixteen when I was assigned to Gilraen--yes, he was my assignment, strange though it undoubtedly sounds. Six months prior to that Gilraen had risen quickly up the ladder of politics to the point where he had become a major player in the intensifying Lylat War. General Pepper gave me the task of guarding Lieutenant Anilora during his inauguration to become captain of Katinan forces, so naturally we spent quite a bit of time together.   
  
"Everyone thought we were the two most mismatched people in the galaxy; he was an intelligent, suave, well-to-do lieutenant every woman south of the Solar nebula thought was handsome, and I was a daring, unorthodox, solitary Macbethian assassin who preferred plasma guns and switchblades as opposed to miniskirts and lipstick. He was already twenty years of age, I was sixteen, but after awhile that just didn't seem to matter.   
  
"But then he got elected captain and our schedules drastically changed. Gilraen tended to spend several hours a day at both KATI and the new frontline base, and as I was the most frequently hired assassin in Lylat I never spent more than a week in any specific location. Gilraen and I never saw one another often enough to make things work out. Today, three years later, our relationship remains the same."   
  
Celestra heaved a great sigh and swilled the contents of her glass aimlessly with a fork; Falco propped his chin upon one fist and shook his head at the sweet irony of it all. The one she deserved didn't have enough time to spare, and the one sitting across the table from her could never hope to compete. Anilora was brave, honest, and everything Celestra should want in a man, and Falco found himself to be reckless, sarcastic, and far inferior to the captain of Katinan forces.   
  
Falco knew he didn't deserve Celestra's affections, but that fact wasn't enough to stop him from caring.   
  
Their entrees arrived after a few minutes of awkward silence, and after carefully analyzing the akrila flowers nearest to her Celestra asked, "So I take it you're experienced in the dating department?"   
  
The avian swallowed a beakful of food and grinned knowingly. "You could say that."   
  
Celestra smirked. "I did say that."   
  
"Shut up." Falco fished out a cherry from his glass of sangria and chewed it thoughtfully. "My last relationship didn't exactly end well."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"Yeah. Her name's Katt Monroe; nowadays she's closely affiliated with Division Three of Arspace Technology, a base that operates from Zoness. She and I had a very brutal falling out a few months ago, and we haven't spoken since."   
  
Celestra drained her glass of wine and asked politely for some water. "Arspace? Must be a smart girl." Falco rolled his eyes. "So what was the problem? Just not compatible?"   
  
"Ah, you know--I was an insensitive jerk, she was an overbearing witch," Falco said with a chuckle, squeezing lime juice over the last dregs of sangria. "Just your standard love-hate relationship. But looking back on the whole thing now, I honestly thnk I was in love with her."   
  
The pair finished their meal in silence, pondering all that had transpired, and within the hour they were on their way again, strolling casually down the sandy beaches, listening not to words but to the melodious roll of waves and the low yet comforting moan of the cool ocean breeze. After all, they were in the same boat of late, and much more had just occured than idle conversation.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"How is it that I am graced with your presence, Bill?" Reivin pondered, stoking the miniscule fire with a forked stick. "Did you draw the short straw?"   
  
Bill frowned deeply at his nemesis from over the top of his bottle. "Ya know why I'm here," he responded icily. "You and I will never be able to live our lives until one of us kills the other. You want me dead 'cause it's the easiest way to get to Celest; I want you dead 'cause someone's gotta be around to kick the crap out of you when you get too close to her."   
  
"Of course you're correct," Reivin affirmed, setting down his bottle and rising smoothly, drawing a pair of knives and studying Bill's face with an unsettling interest. "But tell me--how do we gain? You're only playing the game to keep Celestra alive, and I'm playing to kill both of you and gain the fear of both Seperatists and Loyalists, to leave my footsteps across Lylat. I believe this galaxy could be run by fear, my dear Bill, but only if I first eliminate those who do not tremble at my passing. That is why I must kill you now, Bill, and later I will play my game with Celestra to detirmine the real victor."   
  
Bill growled in manic ferocity and leapt at Reivin, drawing his knives as his momentum carried him forward and slashing at the evil assassin with every ounce of his remarkable strength. Reivin, for once, was caught very off his guard and was knocked backwards beneath the grey dog's weight and they tumbled together in a screaming and whirling heap. Bill scored a glancing hit across Reivin's outer thigh and made to strike the final blow, but a heavy object struck the base of his neck and he collapsed with a groan, unconscious.   
  
Reivin slung Bill over one shoulder and tucked his knives back into his flight vest, inclining his head in thanks to Wolf O'Donnel, who had expertly thrown the rock from within a copse of trees.   
  
~~*~~  
  
The sun had just faded below the line of endless ocean when Falco led Celestra down to the water's edge of the bay. The assassin had a hot pink akrila bundle wound into her ebony ponytail and Falco had one wing draped across her slender shoulders. The translucent waves lapped lazily at the shoreline as they passed, dampening their shoes, and the faint starlight illuminated everything with a truly mysterious light. They paused just next to the dock at which their boat was tethered and stared up at the mystical heavens, sharing a moment that transcended their understanding of space and time.   
  
"You didn't have to come with me today," Falco insisted, smiling down at her.   
  
"Oh shut up already, Lombardi," Celestra replied dismissively, punching him playfully in the shoulder. "I was glad to get away."   
  
The breeze picked up suddenly and a few silken strands of her black hair tickled his cheek; turning to face her Falco asked softly, "Why is it that you never wear your hair down, Celest? Does it just bother you or something?"   
  
Celestra grinned, even white teeth glittering faintly in the starlight. "Force of habit, I suppose. Why do you ask?"   
  
Falco didn't answer, only reached out and gently loosened the tie in her gorgeous hair and let the shoulder-length strands blow freely in the cool, salty breeze. Celestra, expecting to feel strangely violated, found her smile widening as she took his hand in hers and basked in the perfect magic of the night.   
  
"Would it be alright if I kissed you?" Falco murmured over the wind.   
  
Celestra's gaze clouded again. "I've never kissed anyone before," she admitted. "I might be bad at it."   
  
"That's not possible, kid," he assured her, and he leaned down and kissed her under the open sky, and all the world spun in the glow of the soft starlight and the tingle of the cool ocean droplets against their faces.   
  
Celestra Marquette slept that night, more soundly and peacefully than she had in many, many years.   
  
~~*~~  
  
It was long after the moon was on the wane before Leon Powalski risked venturing out of his clever camoflauge. He had hidden safely within the tendrils of the willow trees circumferencing the diner, and in effect he had listened to the entire conversation between Falco and Celestra about their past relationships, growing bored after awhile and remaining behind when they left for their stroll on the beach. Now he reclined comfortably in one of the soda chairs, boots stretched out on the table in front of him, mulling over the finer points of what the female assassin had detailed about her status with Captain Anilora.   
  
"All this time you had us thinking you felt no emotion," Leon mused to himself. "But I think I've finally solved the enigma behind your intricate workings."   
  
Leon returned to his fighter jet half an hour later, a smile touching his face. Celestra Marquette was human after all, he had decided, and once he kidnapped Anilora he could prove it to everyone. 


	13. Chapter Twelve: 9,000 Degrees and Rising

Chapter Twelve: "9,000 Degrees--and Rising"   
  
Far from sleeping soundly a third of the galaxy away, Captain Anilora was awoken by an unnatural chill circulating in his room at the Cornerian Army base. The evening had been warm for that time of year and he had dismissively left the window open, but two in the morning had come and the curtains were fluttering eerily in a strangely cold breeze. Taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the twilight, Anilora rose and padded softly to the gaping window, making to close it but instead resting his forehead against the sill and finding some measure of solace in the semi-frigid bite across his bare upper body. \  
  
Lylat had remained menacingly quiet since the destruction of the sub-aquatic bio-weapon four days ago; far from comforting anyone the increasing silence only irked everyone's nerves. What worried the Katinan captain most about the entire out-of-place scenario, though, was Bill. Anilora had left his companion in command of those forces still occupying their posts on Katina, but the assassin had, for whatever reason, not been seen at the base since the Aquas mission and was not responding to G-Diffuser transmissions. Pepper assured both Anilora and Celestra that Bill was on a mission of his own at the moment, but the entire story sounded wrong to the ever-calculating captain. No, something had undoubtedly happened to Bill, Anilora convinced himself, and Reivin Frost was likely the perpetrator.   
  
Shivering with cold now, Anilora shut and latched the window, after which he returned to his warm bedsheets and drifted feverishly back to sleep.   
  
Less than an hour later he found himself sitting bolt-upright again, one pillow a clammy bundle on the floor, the other wrung feverishly in his sleep. With a start the Katinan realized that his window was open again, the curtains dancing ominously with the intruding breeze.   
  
As quietly as his bedsheets would allow Anilora rose from his bed and stared curiously out the window. There was nothing truly remarkable from what he could see; the single enormous beech tree that normally shaded his room on the more unpleasantly warm days was swishing its branches against the wall and window panes, and the starlight continued its faint, incessant twinkle. Conincidentally or not he could hear no aircraft motors in the sky, unusual since the army base was normally overrun by all sorts of intergalactic ships. Cautiously Anilora took a few steps toward the window, inwardly trying to convince himself that he hadn't shut it properly, or that the latch was faulty, but his pounding heart betrayed him and he paused yet again, curtains just rustling at his ankles.   
  
"You're twenty-three years old, for heaven's sake," Anilora exhaled in exasperation, shaking his head with a bemused chuckle. "Pull yourself together--it's just a window." With that he strode to the open window, grasping both sides to close it again.   
  
"Good evening," a smooth voice hissed, and before he could cry out Anilora had been tackled to the carpet by Leon Powalski, whose charcoal eyes were glittering with malice.   
  
Anilora was quite surprised at Leon's sheer strength, but he was a captain and had seen his share of hand-to-hand combat during his ascent to said position. With a deft turn of one wrist he had freed his right hand and hooked the chameleon around the neck, flinging him precariously off-balance and shoving him back. Leon recovered quickly and punched Anilora across the jaw; Anilora spat out a mouthful of blood, snapped his head up, and plowed into Leon's nose, wincing when he heard the bridge snap. Leon cursed and curled his fingers around the captain's neck with a growl, and Anilora flailed his arms helplessly, beating at Leon's shoulders in a futile attempt to free himself.   
  
His fingertips brushed a hard porcelain surface; Anilora's eyes widened when his hands grasped his bedside lamp and he smashed the thing down upon his assailant's head. Leon toppled backward, stars swimming in front of his eyes, and Anilora flung his pillow off his bed, leveling a small laser barrel at the mercenary's forehead.   
  
With a menacing cackle, Leon summoned his camoflauge abilities, perfectly mimicking the hue of the tan carpet in the moonlight.   
  
Knowing that he would be fighting blind if he continued this battle, Anilora turned and bolted out the door, sprinting down the hallway and firing randomly over his shoulder in a desperate hope to keep the chameleon at bay. Leon, mere feet behind the captain, brought forth a small dagger and slit the back of Anilora's shoulder so precisely that the primary muscle severed painlessly. At first Anilora didn't realize he had been attacked, but when he lifted his arm to fire again the entire limb refused to respond and he collapsed to the ground in agony.   
  
Far from giving in, though, Anilora took the weapon in his other hand and held the trigger down, firing with abandon and filling the entire hall with white laser energy. One bolt struck Leon in the ankle and he skidded to his knees; another just grazed the side of his face and he reflexively clapped a hand over the wound. Catching the wary captain would be far too dangerous now, he realized, for many of the rooms lining the hallway had light streaming from beneath their doorframes and Anilora was calling for aid.   
  
'No matter,' Leon thought to himself. 'All in good time.' With that, the ever-crafty chameleon rose and darted down the hall, limping slightly as he ran.   
  
When Anilora and General Pepper conducted a full search of the army base twenty minutes later, Leon Powalski was already long gone.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Only Celestra appeared fully awake when the five companions and ROB convened in the briefing room at four that morning; Fox and Peppy were very tousle-furred and Falco's feathers seemed to be possessed of their own volition. When the G-Diffuser sceen flickered to life a moment later not only were they looking at General Pepper by at Captain Anilora as well. His violet eyes were wide with strain, fury, and exhaustion as a pair of cyborgs tended to his wounded shoulder, and Celestra's face contorted into an expression caught somewhere between pity and rage.   
  
"Obviously if our information were not important, we would have waited to contact you at a more decent hour--" Pepper tried to explain.   
  
"Get on with it," Celestra snapped, her ever-intense crystalline-blue eyes smouldering as she studied the surgical tape covering the upper-right quarter of Anilora's back.   
  
"Two hours ago, Gilraen was attacked by a member of Star Wolf," Pepper elaborated.   
  
"Which one?" Falco asked sarcastically. "There are four."   
  
"Powalski," Anilora gritted, and Falco ground his beak in frustration. "He snuck in through my bedroom window. It was difficult to tell whether or not I injured him; for the majority of our battle he used camoflauge."   
  
Celestra punched the wall nearest to her with such force that everyone stared. "Of all the spineless, cowardly--"   
  
Anilora held up one hand to silence the assassin; with a profound sigh, she complied. "These tactics of Star Wolf also lead me to believe that Bill's disappearance is far more than suspicious coincidence."   
  
"You sent him after Frost!" Celestra accused Pepper heatedly, rising from her chair so quickly she knocked it over.   
  
"Celestra, please--" Pepper begged.   
  
"You sent my best friend to his worst enemy knowing that Star Wolf would fight fair!"   
  
"--He willingly accepted--"   
  
"You walked him into the hands of Andross's top supporters, and if you think I'm going to sit back and let it happen, you're crazy," Celestra finished icily, eyes narrowed. She turned on her heel and righted her chair, then stopped and swung her knapsack over one shoulder.   
  
"You're walking out on a mission," Pepper warned.   
  
Celestra straightened, set her hands firmly on her hips, and said, "Then don't pay me, General. But I'm going after Bill."   
  
"No you're not," Anilora whispered calmly. "At least, not without me."   
  
The entire room fell very silent, Pepper's eyes simmering with fury, Celestra and Anilora staring at one another quizzically, and the Star Fox team all wearing expressions of disbelief. Anilora tested his arm, wincing a bit but seemingly satisfied as he wrestled into a flight shirt and groped around for the matching vest. Pepper glared at the Katinan captain.   
  
"You can't just walk out on your entire army," he protested.   
  
Anilora shrugged and offered a wan smile. "I'll leave someone trustworthy in charge; the men all respect my judgment and will understand the urgency of my departure."   
  
The Cornerian general turned on the female assassin, who was now smirking confidently. "I've hired you--I refuse to relinquish your uses."   
  
"Then I'll quit," she threatened, and the mercenaries uttered sounds of amazement. "I'll take myself out of the system and you'll never see me again."   
  
"And I'll be right behind you if it comes to that," Anilora assured. Celestra flashed her beautiful smile at him; Falco cast his gaze jealously on the floor.   
  
Pepper sighed and shook his head, avoiding the unyielding glares from undoubtedly his two strongest supporters. Withour their aid his hand in the war would weaken substantially, possibly to the verge of failure, and it was logic that he could not deny. "Go after Bill Grey. I wish you luck."   
  
"Rendezvous in Katina's capital city," Anilora informed his female accomplice. "I can meet you there in a little less than one day."   
  
"I'll be waiting for you," Celestra assured him. He nodded and strode out the door, out of view. The dark-haired assassin made for the exit, but stopped and turned to face the mercenaries. "Fox, I will be back in time for the next mission after this, and I regret very much having to--"   
  
"Get going, Marquette," Fox said, waving a hand dismissively.   
  
With a smile of thanks, Celestra departed for her Arwing.   
  
"On to business," Pepper began again irritably. "As Andross's sub-aquatic bio-weapon has been successfully destroyed in the oceans of Aquas, another weapon of mass destruction has recently been constructed. Until about twenty minutes ago tacticians hadn't the slightest clue of where this new bio-weapon is located, but after several thermal scans we have traced a radical power signature to the core of Solar."   
  
Slippy and Peppy were already bringing up thermal and skematical grids of their newest mission site, but Fox interrupted them by shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Er, General, you know that Solar is a nebula, don't you?"   
  
"Of course I do, McCloud."   
  
"So you are also aware that we can't possibly fly there, penetrate the core, and destroy a bio-weapon of any kind?" the vulpine pointed out. "The temperature fluctuates radically once you penetrate the heat zone--our Arwings will be incinerated in seconds."   
  
Slippy shook his head and gestured to his thermal readouts. "You're not exactly right there, Fox. Logic would denote that we would just be walking into a frying pan, but technically our Arwings could resist meltdown for a short period of time."   
  
"You do realize you're not being comforting," Falco pointed out, pouring himself a mug of coffee.   
  
"How hot is the general temperature?" Peppy asked.   
  
Slippy studied his readouts. "Approximately nine-thousand degrees," he answered. "Sometimes higher."   
  
"And how long do you figure we can sustain vitals in that inferno?" Fox mused.   
  
"Somewhere between six and seven minutes."   
  
"That's it," Falco began, setting his mug down with a clatter. "We're screwed."   
  
Peppy was studying a revolving skematic that detailed the quickest route into the nebula's core. "We're looking at a two minute journey straight to the core aat the longest," he informed them, pointing to the dotted flight path. "That leaves us with a two or three minute battle."   
  
"No offense, guys, but we'll be hard-pressed to accomplish this without Celestra," Slippy admitted. "We're a formidable enough group, but we'll be noticeably weakened without such a strong pilot."   
  
"Agreed," said Fox, now pacing in front of the G-Diffuser screen as General Pepper watched the scene unfold. "But the four of us have been in tight spots before without Celestra." The vulpine ceased his pacing and glanced at Pepper. "You can go--we'll handle everything from here."   
  
Pepper complied, rolling his eyes irritably.   
  
"How much time do we have until this thing goes on the rampage?" Falco asked, crossing his arms and kicking his boots up on an endtable.   
  
Slippy leaned over to the mainframed, typed in a few commands, and perused the computer screen nearest to him as thousands of numbers spiraled across the screen. "I give it no more than two days; by that time every minor tactician in Lylat will have noticed abnormal activity within the nebula."   
  
~~*~~  
  
It was about one forty-five the following morning when a sleepy-eyed Captain Anilora stumbled into the most prestigious coffee shop in Nexxus, 'Riva's Remedy'. The wind was kicking up violently through the not-so-busy streets already, and in contrast to the day before it was a rather cold morning. Anilora was huddled beneath a dark green traveling cloak as he entered the coffee shop, but the interior was warm and cozy and he had soon thrown back the hood.   
  
Celestra was bent over a mocha cappuccino and what appeared to be a slightly damp bit of paper at a corner table by a window. The only addition she had made to her flight attire was a floor-length black cloak that boasted a Cornerian Flight Academy symbol on the back.   
  
Anilora ordered a regular coffee and seated himself across from her. "Ever you amaze me with your impeccable speed," he began. "How did you get here so quickly?"   
  
She looked up and said, in all seriousness, "I was carried on the wings of desperation." Without further explanation she pushed the paper across the table and into his outstretched hand. The Katinan glanced down and was quite alarmed when he recognized Reivin Frost's handwriting.   
  
My dear Celestra,   
  
I have no doubts that you have by now heard of the regrettably failed assassination attempt against Captain Gilraen Anilora. You may thank our friend Leon for that. As I do not doubt your conniving intelligence, I will assume that you have guessed that Bill's absense is no tragic coincidence.   
  
I must as the least commend you and your crafty friend Falco for escaping me on Fortuna, but even you must have known that this has been but a temporary reprieve. You have my word that Bill is very much alive, but will obviously not remain thus if you do not grant me the opportunity of a rematch.   
  
I trust you will bring Gilraen along at your heels, therefore I have called upon Wolf O'Donnel to keep him company. I also trust you know where to find us, so I will spare both of us precious time in telling you. You have one day--but I have no doubts you will fly faster upon the wings of desperation.   
  
My best to you and your dearly beloved captain.   
  
~Frost  
  
Anilora shoved the letter back across the table in disgust. "He's a sick, twisted man," he remarked coldly.   
  
Celestra's eyes slipped down to the steam wafting from her mug, and suddenly she appeared very tired. Seeing this, the Katinan reached out and tipped her chin up, cupping the side of her fair face in his hand. "Don't you start thinking for a second that the three of us aren't going to make it out of this," he warned gently. "Have you forgotten everything I taught you? People like Reivin have no heart, and without it they will always lose. Hold to your faith, Celestra. We will save Bill."   
  
The assassin thought of Falco then, and with a pang of guilt she brushed Anilora's hand away.   
  
They finished their coffee in an uncomfortable silence, and in half an hour they had exited Katinan atmosphere via Anilora's personal cruiser, Silhouette.   
  
~~*~~  
  
The four mercenaries fell expertly into a 1-3 formation just outside of the Solar nebula heat zone. No one could find any reassuring words to say as they all stared fearfully down into the molten lava that oozed across the entire radical core. Every few seconds the flames would falre up, emitting chunks of rock and flecks of lava, and at times these outbursts were so bright they squinted. Fox, leading his team, rubbed his eyes anxiously and activated his G-Diffuser system.   
  
"Slippy, Peppy, do you have the coordinates?"   
  
"We're directly above the bio-weapon in our current position," Slippy reassured his wing commander.   
  
The map detailing their chosen route materialized onto Fox's screen as Peppy booted it back up. "If we follow this map, it'll be a straight run to the core in a minute and forty seconds, two minutes maximum."   
  
"Assuming nothing goes wrong along the way," Falco pointed out. "So what's the game plan, coach McCloud?"   
  
Eyes still perusing the flight path he had made, the vulpine began slowly, "If we all try to cram ourselves into the core, this whole missions will be nothng short of chaos. Since we're on a strict time schedule--something we're not used to--we won't have the opportunity to make this assault perfectly uniform. We can't fight with our natual style today, so here's the plan--I figure if we get separated, the first one or two to make it to the core should proceed to the bio-weapon. The others--return to our cruiser and keep out of the heat zone. Everyone clear on that?"   
  
"Crystal," Falco responded, booting up his main thrusters. "Let's kick it into high gear, boys."   
  
Without further delay the Star Fox team sped into the heat zone of Solar nebula. The instant they entered the figurative boundary, their shield cried out in unison and the energy slowly began to drop.   
  
"We're gonna have to move!" Slippy called, yelping in surprise when a flaming boulder whizzed within feet to the right of his Arwing. "All thrusters to maximum, Fox--hold nothing back!"   
  
"Slippy's right!" Fox cried, evading another rock and squinting through the blaze. "Everybody break formation! Get to that core!"   
  
Falco dipped low with an unpleasant lurch while his three wingmates shot up high over the next enormous rock; instantly he knew why they had taken the opposite course as him, for the closer he flew to the nebula surface the more rapidly his shield gauge decreased. The warnings screamed throughout his cockpit as he evaded with unbelievable speed, and eventually he had left his comrades far behind him.   
  
"Oh, shut up," Falco hissed at the incessant bleeping, and he flicked off his shield gauge monitor.   
  
"Lombardi, where are you? We've lost visual!"   
  
"I'm turning into Celestra," Falco muttered to himself, and with a sigh and a shake of his head he disabled his G-Diffuser system as well. "Sorry, guys, but I'm goin' for it." Swerving in and out of spurts of magma and airborne boulders, the avian piloted MeteoRiot in far better form than his comrades, not even thinking about his flight path as his hands seemed to be possessed of their own volition. Several hundred yards away he spied the core opening, a dark, cavernous tunnel that led vertically downward. Dodging a final stream of lava, Falco boosted his thrusters in a powerful spurt of speed and disappeared down the chute.   
  
Fox was sending his Arwing through frantic barrel-rolls when Peppy came back over the radio: "Thirty-six seconds have passed, and Falco's already through."   
  
"Damn," Fox gritted admiringly. "One more person through and we'll be in business. Hopefully Falco can cover himself until then."   
  
Slippy, furthest ahead of the remaining three, could just see the core gaping like some hungry mouth of a fire demon. Thrusters already at their maximum, he powered down to his normal boosters and velocitized back to a more manageable speed just in time to avoid a rock that would have maimed his spacecraft. "I don't think I can get through, guys, I'm being blocked!"   
  
Peppy stirred his Arwing into a quick rush of speed and skivved around Slippy and his predicament with a tight turn to the right, but he didn't get much further as a wall of magma exploded upward in front of him. The shield gauge cried out as the cascade erupted, and it was all Peppy could do to come to a complete stop befor he flew into the molten inferno.   
  
Fox was only a few hundred feet behind the hare; in a flash he had killed all of his thrusters, coming to a near halt, then angled up and boosted the engines back to their maximum and running parallel to the magma wall barring Peppy. The ninety-degree angle lasted no more than four seconds, and Fox shot down the core's tunnel, heat increasing as he descended.   
  
"Fall back, Slip!" Peppy cried, and they shot back up toward the outer atmosphere; the hulls began to cool several hundred degrees as their elevation grew, and in a minute they burst out of the heat zone and rejoined Great Fox.   
  
Fox and Falco had less than four minutes remaining.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"Reivin's cruiser is emitting a universal signal," Celestra pointed out as Silhouette penetrated Fortuna's atmosphere. "Ten to one he's trying to lure us to the battleground of his choosing, an unfamiliar terrain that he has most likely eroded to his fighting style by now, no doubt."   
  
Violet eyes scanning the ice-glazed trees for a clearing within which to land, Anilora nodded. "Scanners have picked up Bill's life force within half a mile of the Venomian craft. How near to the site should we land?"   
  
A familiar clacking sound resounded throughout the ship's interior; observant Anilora did not have to turn around to discern its source. Celestra had taken to pacing the control room, mystical boots assaulting the floor in her irritation, and she aimlessly twirled a plasma gun in her right hand. "Bring us down three quarters of a mile from Reivin's ship; chances are they'll be fanned out away from Bill to track our progress." For a few seconds the only noise within the hull was the click-clack of the assassin's combat boots, then she added, "Are his vitals stable?"   
  
The captain frowned, partly out of remorse for Bill but also out of rage for Reivin and Wolf. "Fluctuating between poor and critical. We need to get to him quickly, Celestra, or we may lose him."   
  
Celestra winced at her comrade's cold logic and closed her glacial blue eyes in thought. "A direct, frantic attack is exactly what the pair of them will expect; they'll have already thought through our limited options and assumed that course." She opened her eyes again, a faint touch of worry lining her indifferent facade, and glanced out the nearest window. "If we charge in over-confidently, we're dead; if we tread cautiously, Bill's a goner. I just remembered why I despise emotion."   
  
With a slight shudder the graceful Katinan cruiser touched down just outside of the thickest line of frosted trees. Anilora went to the rear of the control room and zipped up his flight vest, then took up a large, double-barreled proton rifle, securing it into a leather holster that ran diagonally down his back, and Celestra did not miss the slight wince on his face as the weapon clunked against the tender portion of his back and shoulder. "We were never quite the pair to deal in caution and reluctance, my friend--Bill's life is at stake. Better our own lives and not his."   
  
"Agreed," said Celestra, doing a quick check to ensure her utility belt was fully equipped. "Our first priority is Bill, whether or not personal injury is at stake. We go in hard and strong."   
  
The hatch whirred open and a blast of icy wind reddened their cheeks, and together they advanced through the forest, Celestra's boots now as perfectly silent as a stalking predators' paws.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Without warning the tunnel opened up into an oblong cavern, and with a yelp Falco swerved unceremoniously to the right. The bio-weapon had seemingly been awaiting its quarry just off to the side; the wary avian, so agile, had narrowly avoided collision with it.   
  
The thing oddly resembled an enormous praying mantis, only encased in a protective outer shell of reddish-brown rock. Its red eyes gleamed with a sinister inner shine, so illuminating in the lava-filled cave that Falco squinted and cursed under his breath as he rebooted his G-Diffuser system.   
  
"Hey! Is anybody back there behind me?"   
  
"Your recklessness is going to get you killed one of these days!" came Fox's voice over the radio, and Falco breathed more easily at his commander's presence. "You okay up there?"   
  
Falco cornered and brought himself in line with the distant earthen monster, bringing his lasers to bear and firing at will, knocking off great chunks of rock and letting them fall into the swirl of angry simmering magma. "For now, but it's getting harder to breathe in here. Do yourself a favor and cut hard right when you reach the battle zone; our new buddy is blocking the left side."   
  
"Roger that," the vulpine answered, and he finally boosted his thrusters to their highest output. For a split second Fox caught sight of the volcanic-like cavern ahead, and before he could draw another breath he had shot along the wall to the right, inside wing inches from the boundary of the cave. Falco was easy to locte--he was shooting madly with cerulean beams that contrasted starkly with all the vivid reds and oranges of the lava--and skirting around to the rear he joined in the frantic assault. "You turned your communications off."   
  
The avian gritted his beak, frustrated when his laser energy dealt little or no damage to the rock creature. "No way! How did you guess?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.   
  
Fox made a derisive sound through his nose. "Why?"   
  
For a moment the other mercenary did not respond, then he murmured, "Sometimes you just gotta grit your teeth and do it, regardless of orders."   
  
"You're turning into Celestra," Fox teased, and Falco let out a squawking laugh.   
  
"Three minutes!" shouted Slippy, who was safe within the control room of Great Fox with Peppy and ROB beside him. "Hurry, you two!"   
  
The bio-weapon, apparently realizing it was being shot at, let loose an unearthly shriek. Opening its mouth wide it gave an ear-splitting coughing sound and a stream of flaming boulders erupted from the thing's cavernous throat; Fox and Falco frantically evaded the onslaught but still emerged extremely battered.   
  
"This is getting us nowhere!" the vulpine cried out, fighting to regain control of his shuddering craft. "We've got to think of an offensive plan, and fast!"   
  
Falco killed his engines and hovered, immobile, in the air. "I've got an idea, but you've gotta get out of here."   
  
"What? Why?"   
  
"I've got one bomb left from the Katina mission," the avian explained solemnly. "I'm gonna bring the whole cavern down on Andross's friend here, and you're not getting caught in the crossfire."   
  
Fox hesitated for only a moment, then proceeded to shut down his Arwings' primary systems. "I can't let you do that, Lombardi. We're a team. We're in this together."   
  
With a horribly pleasant laugh Falco said," That's why Slippy and Peppy are on our cruiser and Celestra's on Fortuna, right?"   
  
The Star Fox commander cursed, but could think of nothing to counter the irrefutable logic. "You can't . . . what if--"   
  
"Get going!!" Falco screamed at him, booting up his engines and whipping his spacecraft around to face his wing commanders'. "Go or I will shoot you myself!" The avian's features were drawn, stern and serious; Fox noticed with a squirm of discomfort that Falco's dark eyes were ablaze with a suicidal intensity. It wasn't until his comrade had proceeded to warm his lasers did Fox know he was being deathly serious.   
  
"Damn you, Falco Lombardi!" he cried in fury, and with a heart-wrenching sensation in his chest he turned and sped up the tunnel and out of the core. With a knowing smirk the avian let his laser energy fizzle into nothing.   
  
When Falco was certain his wing commander had fully exited the core tunnel, he asked, "Hey, idiot--did you honestly think for a second that I, your best friend, would shoot you?"   
  
"Falco!!" cried the other three mercenaries, despair and trepidation evident in their voices, and the avian clicked off the G-Diffuser system yet again. It was extremely difficult to draw breath now; the intense heat in the air burned at his lungs and often left him coughing and gasping. He wasn't at all prepared when the volcanic-based creature spewed another great barrage of fiery stones his way, and MeteoRiot took the heavy blows with depleting stoicism. A particularly devastating hit sent Falco reeling sideways, and with a grunt of pain his right temple collided with the metal clasp of one of his safety restraints.   
  
Eyes blurred and swimming uncontrollably, Falco struggled to right himself. Hand resting on his bomb release and waiting for the opportune moment, he dared to manuever closer to the rock-encased praying mantis.   
  
Its mouth widened, preparing to attack again.   
  
The avian meant to say something brave and intelligent when this had at last occured, but air was more precious at the moment than satisfying his ego. Flying as close as good judgment would allow, he ground his beak and let fly his only bomb.   
  
He was frighteningly certain that the weapon had been incinerated in the heat, for at first nothing notable transpired. Then the bio-weapon retched, flailing and clutching at its throat with its clawed hands, and Falco grinned maniacally as the bomb detonated in his enemy's throat. The explosiion sucked at the oxygen in his lungs and he gagged, pummeling with the controls until at last his engines gunned and he shot up into the tunnel. Behind him, a great cloud of toxin fallout expanded, seeming to chase his as he fled.   
  
Only vaguely aware that he hadn't escaped death yet, Falco's craft narrowly escaped the narrow chute before the toxin cloud exploded upward onto the nebula surface. Only then did the mercenary turn his communications systems back on, just in time to hear Slippy shout, "One minute!"   
  
"Wonderful," Falco muttered sarcastically, and somewhere in his subconscious he realized that his words were slightly slurred and something warm and thick was oozing through the feathers on the side of his face. As his altitude raised the vice around his lungs seemed to lessen slightly, but he was coughing in fits now and his brain swam from lack of oxygen.   
  
"Thirty seconds! Falco, can you hear me?!"   
  
But the avian couldn't respond, could hardly breathe or see; his vision darkened every few seconds, as though someone was turning a light switch on and off. The exterior of his Arwing was smouldering, his wingtips blazing; the craft resembled a grat phoenix rising up from the fiery depths.   
  
And then it was all over--at last MeteoRiot broke through the heat zone, carreening into black space, and the flames extinguished as though he had plunged into water. Aboard Great Fox, Peppy, Slippy, and ROB all shouted in joy as Fox collapsed into an armchair in the briefing room, trembling with relief. Falco's lungs drank in the oxygen, chest heaving, and he thanked God that he was alive.   
  
Only a few minutes later Peppy and Fox were unstrapping the battered avian from his restraints; Slippy had already begun a medical scan of the wound in his head, but even as his boots hit the floor Falco descended into unconsciousness.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Anilora nudged Celestra hard in the shoulder, perfectly aware of how exposed they were, but the female assassin heeded him not, continuing to stare at Bill in horror. He lay crumpled at the foot of a frosted ash tree, seemingly unconscious, his left knee shifted into a sickeningly wrong position. She re-holstered her plasma guns and let her hands fall to her sides limply; her every being compelled her to run to him and spare him his torment, but whether she knew in some still-functioning corner of her brain that it seemed a cruel bit of bait or that Anilora's hand was firmly on her shoulder she did not move.   
  
"It's a trap," the Katinan informed her, praying that she would see reason. "A twisted trick set by Reivin to deceive us. He knows the sight causes us great anguish."   
  
Celestra blinked once and did not move for Bill, but neither could she look away.   
  
"Do not--" Anilora began, but then Bill gave an incoherent moan and Celestra's reason fell away.   
  
"Bill!" she cried, and she sprinted into the clearing, weapons sheathed, arms wide to embrace him. The captain cursed mutely when a shadow off to the right stirred and erupted into motion, and neither he nor Celestra was really surprised when Reivin drew his rival to him, a blade held steady millimeters from the exposed flesh of her neck.   
  
"Hello, my dear Celestra," he crooned into her ear, turning the her so that she was facing the ragged form of Bill, who was now gazing blearily up at them. "I can't tell you how pleased I am that you could join us."   
  
Celestra was struggling against him, raging more strongly than even he had thought possible, but the knife pricked ever-so-lightly at her throat and she grew more still. "Let him go, you damned monster! If you want a fight you've got one, but I swear if you ever touch Bill again I'll kill you!"   
  
Reivin now saw his greatest opportunity yet shining right in front of his malevolent green eyes. Quietly, delicately, he asked, "You are a flawed human after all, aren't you?"   
  
"No!" Celestra screamed, thrashing again.   
  
"You finally made the mistake of exposing your heart to someone, didn't you?"   
  
The female assassin hesitated, but only for a split second before she countered "No!" with equal hatred.   
  
There was a mocking laugh in the raven's voice now. "This must be what happens when you sell yourself to people. Ever since you joined those mercenaries you became soft. You're not even worth my efforts anymore, are you?"   
  
Before she could stifle it a dry sob escaped Celestra's lips. "No . . . " she gasped out, but it was a sad, pathetic excuse for her normally commanding tone. Reivin knew she had almost given in.   
  
A tear trickled down Celestra's pale cheek as her adversary stated with conviction, "And you're in love, you weak, worthless fool. You've given your heart to foolish emotion when you were invincible in the beginning. Everything deadly and dangerous about you, all the qualities you possessed that made you my fighting equal, have faded into this worthless shell you've become."   
  
Celestra fell limp in Reivin's arms, sobbing, even as Bill struggled to rise in a new surge of fury and failed. Smirking, feeling ultimately superior now, the evil assassin released his captive, turning her to face him so that he could revel in her broken and defeated helplessness.   
  
"Now draw your switchblades," Reivin ordered her, businesslike again as he unsheathed his own. "Fight me again. We will see how your emotions have rewarded you today."   
  
Choking back another sob, she felt for the two switchblades at her utility belt. She unsheathed them slowly and exposed the blades, but did not raise her arms to strike.   
  
"Fight!" her enemy shrieked, now circling her menacingly. "Prove that these useless feelings are worth your current weakness! You were convinced you could defeat me fueled by passion--where is your motivation now, when you have been exposed for a coward? But come then--fight me!"   
  
Celestra gave a whimper, anguish apparent upon her sodden face, and whispered, "Let him go."   
  
Reivin threw his head back and cackled so manically that Celestra shivered uncontrollably. "And how do I gain? Let him go, certainly; he has played out his uses, but at what price?"   
  
"Let him go," she repeated, almost inaudibly. "Take me instead."   
  
At these words, Reivin Frost lowered his knives. "You would give yourself to me in order to save Bill?"   
  
Her icy blue eyes caught his, glimmer slightly restored. "I would."   
  
"Then take him," Reivin said with a malicious grin. "He is no longer worth my time." Re-sheathing his weapons he stooped over Bill and dragged him in the direction from which Celestra had come. A tree root obscured the path but Reivin ignored it, even when Bill's twisted knee knocked against it and he shrieked in heart-wrenching agony. The assassin deposited Bill just shy of the treeline and turned back.   
  
Celestra tackled him to the ground, pinning him beneath her roughly and forcefully, eyes blazing with barely contained rage. The perplexed expression on Reivin's face spoke his amazement in volumes.   
  
"You actually believed that cheesy bit of acting?" Celestra growled through gritted teeth, and she reared her right fist back and punched him in the beak. "You're not the only one around here who puts up a facade, Frost! Fake sorrow is so easy to manipulate!"   
  
Reivin growled low in his throat and forced her back; Celestra sprawled at the foot of the ash tree, fumbling with her plasma lasers. As he advanced, Reivin glanced back over his shoulder at Bill.   
  
The Katinan assassin had disappeared.   
  
"Very clever!" the male assassin praised, taking his knives out again. "A brilliant performance to rescue Bill Grey! But all in vain, I must say--for many weeks now you have been my target."   
  
Celestra didn't respond; instead she spun her plasma lasers up into a ready position and fired several times. Reivin's hands blurred as he became a flurry of motion, and when all was still again he stood unscathed, having deflected all of them with little more than a quickened heartbeat. Seemingly satisfied, the Macbethian reverted to switchblades and they clashed, the sun and the shadow, weaving a dance of death beneath the frozen sky.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"Can you stand, my friend?"   
  
Bill grunted and shifted up onto his feet, crying out as a figurative chainsaw sliced into his knee. Anilora, luckily, was only inches away, so when Bill toppled the captain was there to support him. "I've seen better days, that's for sure."   
  
Anilora hefted Bill over to the nearest tree and helped him get settled and as confortable as possible, then stood back and surveyed him. Better days was an understatement, he decided; the welt on the back of his head was swollen to the size of a chicken's egg, and the fur around it was nearly black with bruising and mottled with dried and caked blood. The knee was a repulsive mass that had been shifted ninety degrees too far to the right, Anilora deduced, and they were more than a day away from Katina and the nearest medical facility.   
  
"She's brilliant," Bill croaked, breaking the silence. "Celest. She even had me fooled."   
  
"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been panicking," Anilora agreed. Then he shifted and his visage grew more stern. "I know for certain that Wolf O'Donnel is somewhere in the near vacinity; Frost sent Celestra a letter--"   
  
But the rest of his sentence was lost as Bill's eyes grew large; recognizing the expression as a warning Anilora ducked his head just in time to avoid a flying fist. Whirling about on his half-boots the Katinan captain found himself facing Andross's second most powerful supporter, Wolf O'Donnel.   
  
Unlike Reivin and Celestra these two dispensed with idle pleasantries; Anilora swiped out at Wolf with his left hand, snagging Wolf's forearm and clawing at the fur with his fingernails. The lupine uttered a feral sound within his throat and lunged for the human, clamping his teeth down on the exposed hand and ripping chunks out of the flesh. Crying out, violet eyes wild, Anilora uppercutted Wolf's jaw, shaking the deadly canines free, and with a swipe of one leg Wolf had buckled the captain's knees and sent him crashing to the ground.   
  
When next Anilora looked up, Wolf had forced a trembling Bill to his feet. As he rose, the mercenary moved his claws along to Bill's stomach, fingers ready to deliver the most fatal blow.   
  
"I would not advise moving," Wolf warned, and calculating Anilora held up his hands.   
  
At that time Celestra and Reivin crashed into view, the latter leading, the former backing steadily into the clearing. Wolf swiveled his head around to view the climaxing battle and those sparse seconds were all the captain needed to act. Bill set the stage, rearing his elbow back and plowing the lupine in the stomach, thus breaking free and crashing back into the cold leaves in agony. As soon as Bill was out of range, Anilora whipped the proton rifle out from his back and leveled it at Wolf.   
  
"I would not advise moving," Anilora mocked with a wry grin.   
  
Wolf's hackles raised as he bared his canines, and before Anilora could pull the trigger his enemy had smashed a tiny orb against the ground; a blinding flash emitted, and although their eyes were wide open neither Bill nor the captain could see. When their watering eyes had at last ceased to flash and blur, Wolf had already bolted.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Celestra let Reivin back her out of the clearing, knowing full well that they were headed to a sharp dropoff that fell roughly fifteen feet and into some more trees. She could almost feel the unprecedented hatred emanating form him, for he had been deceived in such a manner that he cursed himself and his ignorance. Now his emerald eyes burned livid holes into hers as their battle sped up; Reivin was forcing her backward with every ounce of his skill, and she knew that if she couldn't edge her way to the bluff soon his rage would prove overpowering.   
  
"A fine performance," she congratulated him slightly breathlessly. "But can you hold?"   
  
"Don't you worry about that!" he snarled, and he came at her in a flurry of whirling blades. His first knife came in a wide arc, and she deflected; the second came low and aimed for her midriff, but she foiled him again. They danced around one another as acrobats would compliment one of their fellows at a circus, now nearing the dropoff.   
  
Anilora limped into view supporting Bill, whose face had taken on a slight greenish tinge to it. He cried out a warning as Celestra slipped on the rock mere inches from the brink, and leaving Bill to relax and wait the captain un-holstered his proton rifle again, searching for a decent shot. Reivin and Celestra skipped along the edge, feet working frantically to keep in time with the rhythm of battle and to avoid the drop. He was just putting pressure on the trigger when he was tackled from behind; rolling onto one side Anilora cursed as Wolf kicked the rifle out of his hands. The Katinan captain felt a knot of fear wrenching in the pit of his stomach, for Wolf was drawing out a length of chain now and he, Anilora, was unarmed.   
  
Bill was dozing in a numb, hazy state when he was jerked back into full consciousness by a dull clattering sound. Forcing his watering eyes open he discerned the source of the noise: the proton rifle had landed a mere five feet away. With a groan the battered assassin flopped onto his stomach and began crawling frantically toward it.   
  
Anilora was scrambling along the ground for a means of defending himself as Wolf rose menacingly, lovingly coiling the spiked chain around his wrist. His hands grasped a stick and he raised it up before him just as the lupine lashed out; the stick was obliterated by the blow and Anilora cried out in agony when the spikes dug deeply into the right side of his chest. Near the bluff, Celestra couldn't help but glance his way in worry, and Reivin, never one to dismiss an opportunity, struck. As she turned back he lunged in, too close for a counterattack, and sank one of his cruel knives between two of the ribs in her right upper torso.   
  
At first Celestra didn't feel a thing, just the edge of a cool sensation emanating from somewhere in her lower diaphram. But then Reivin cackled with glee and wrenched the blade free; without warning, the pain intensified tenfold and she swooned forward in shock. Her adversary caught and supported her almost carefully, then pulled her close so that she leaned against him and hissed in her ear: "You see your error now, my dear Celestra? Your passions have cost you your life."   
  
Reivin pushed her back and brought his knife to bear; Bill hefted the proton rifle up onto his shoulder and fired. The baseball-sized energy ball struck Reivin full in the chest and he wordlessly went limp and fell to the ground. Not wasting any time on further speculation Bill set his sights on Wolf and blasted again. The lupine's entire right side when numb and immobile and the chain fell to the ground as Anilora gasped out and swayed unsteadily.   
  
Celestra dabbed gently at the wound and couldn't really comprehend what it all meant when her fingers came back stained with red. Then her knees ceased to hold her weight and she carreened over the dropoff.   
  
The Katinan assassin gasped for breath, clutching at his throbbing knee, and forced himself to get to his feet. The only sound that penetrated the frigid air was that of his, Wolf's, and Anilora's breathing; Reivin, fully paralyzed for the moment following the proton blast, could neither move nor speak, and Celestra had fallen out of sight. Firming his jaw Bill detirminedly limped his way forward to help his friends.   
  
He had not taken three steps before he blacked out from the pain.   
  
When Bill came around again some thirty minutes later, he found that his knee had been crudely braced with a plethera of twigs tied together with some manner of sweet grass. Swiveling his head he found Anilora kneeling a few yards away, cradling Celestra in his arms. The captain's shirt was torn and bloody from the chain spikes, but he seemed quite coherent; Celestra lay limply in Anilora's lap, awake and with her wound wrapped securely with strips of cloth torn from Anilora's own traveling cloak, but her eyes were glazed and her face more pale than was normal.   
  
"Where are those damned--" Bill began heatedly, but Anilora cut him off with a raised hand and pointed at the sky.   
  
A cruiser had just risen above the treeline; by the look of things Wolf and Reivin had called for aid, for the ship was not the assassin's. Bill narrowed his eyes; doubtless Leon Powalski had come to their rescue.   
  
Anilora stroked Celestra's hair soothingly, and the three companions followed the cruiser with their eyes and continued to stare long after it had faded from view. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Division Three

Chapter Thirteen: "Division Three"   
  
Falco found that he was extremely grateful for the ten days' worth of silence throughout the galaxy that followed the destruction of the second bio-weapon. His three teammates had helped him celebrate his heroic efforts by letting him sleep as much as he wanted. In the end he had escaped Solar's heat zone with only a minor concussion and a few stitches from his close encounter with the seatbelt latch, and if anything he found the fact that he had received greater injury from a safety mechanism rather than a tool of mass destruction overly amusing.   
  
He had, however, received quite a shock when Celestra re-appeared on the fifth day covered in bruises, scrapes, and surgical tape. The amazement of the entire mercenary squad only multiplied when she told them that Anilora and Bill had been just as injured on Fortuna, and their minds were blown when she finished by announcing that Reivin and Wolf had once more slipped through their hands. On the positive side, though, all three of them had survived the encounter--Celestra and Anilora's wounds had been nicely dressed and Bill's knee would be able to support his weight in an additional couple of days.   
  
The Great Fox docked at a minor spaceport on an Aquas moon called Kairo with the end of the eighth day to restock their food supply and other such goods. As the nebula rose on the tenth day they were back in space again, hovering between Aquas and the seventh planet in the system, Zoness. Bill contacted them later that afternoon with a report that Anilora and his fleet had won a rather large skirmish just outside of Fortunan airspace, driving the primary Venomian force all the way back to Sector X combat zone, Zoness, and Macbeth. At this news Celestra became visibly more reserved and was found brooding all through the night.   
  
Falco knew better than to go to her at that time; he knew perfectly well how the subject of her home planet and the memory of the massacre she so narrowly escaped in her childhood haunted her. Hers was a past that only she could sublimate; the demons she harbored within were ones only she could overcome.   
  
But he visited her regularly in the deep darkness of night when he was certain she was asleep, if only to be certain that she was alright, and he grew to pity the expression of torment on her face.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Slippy didn't sleep well that night, and naturally he was the first of the mercenaries to enter the control room with ROB. In another two hours he had managed to coast them further in the direction of Zoness on three mugs of coffee, assuming that General Pepper would order them in the direction of either Zoness or Macbeth. He was subconsciously running diagnostics on the five Arwings when a distress signal accompanied by a priority one transmission hit him all at once. The signal was emanating from nearby Zoness; Slippy connected to the transmission at once.   
  
"This is Slippy Toad of the mercenary unit--"   
  
"--Star Fox, yeah, yeah, that's great, hon," came a low, husky female voice impatiently. "Listen, I wouldn't come to you guys if my situation wasn't urgent, but I saw your cute little cruiser on the radar--"   
  
Slippy choked on a mouthful of coffee and ended up dribbling a bit down his front. "Katt?" he gasped out. "Katt Monroe?!"   
  
Katt crossed her arms across her shapely chest and smiled through her mane of pearly-white hair, sapphire eyes sparkling with mischief. The eighteen-year-old feline had been Falco's steady love interest for the past two years or so, but about eight months previous she had taken off in a rage for some unknown reason. Katt's pale pink fur helped her stand out quite more than was needed, for even without such a beacon she was known for being seductive, sly, and undeniably beautiful. "In the flesh, sugar. Been quite awhile, hasn't it?"   
  
The youngest mercenary found he suddenly had lockjaw.   
  
"Cat got your tongue, Slippy?" she taunted with a laugh that sounded very much like a soft purr.   
  
Slippy shook himself and mumbled something incomprehensible as he switched on the all-ship intercom. "Everybody, er--that is to say--er, I mean . . . get up. And, er . . . briefing room . . . now." Without really knowing he was doing so, he re-aligned the ship, moving it into a glide in the direction of Zoness. During this time Katt chuckled to herself and studied her well-manicured nails with a meticulous interest. "I'll just wait for you to get your little friends up and decent, shall I?" she offered softly.   
  
With a brusque nod, Slippy turned and exited, leaving the transmission to hold until their congregation was together.   
  
Only ten minutes later he had successfully gathered the well-rested crew in the briefing room, grouped them more-or-less in front of the visual screen, and rewarded them with a pot of black coffee for their presence. By that time another transmission had filtered in to Slippy from General Pepper's cruiser Vortex Four.   
  
"I'll warn you guys now," the toad began, swiveling his baseball cap backwards as he surveyed them from the helm. "This may come as rather a shock." Placing Pepper's call under temporary wait, Slippy re-located the Zoness transmission and, quite suddenly, the mercenaries and Celestra found themselves staring into the smug face of Katt Monroe.   
  
The reaction was instantaneous; Fox gave a great snort into his coffee mug and ducked under the round wooded table to hide his laughter, Peppy's nose twitched uncontrollably and his eyes narrowed, but Falco toppled right out of his chair and onto the floor, sputtering, a faint red tinge spreading across his beak. The avian's mug clattered to the floor, drenching the carpet, and ROB moved to clear away the mess, having been told by Slippy to expect something of this nature to occur.   
  
Katt grinned wickedly and ran a hand through her shimmering hair as the mercenaries fought to re-orient themselves. "A pleasure as always, boys. It really has been too long."   
  
Falco smoothly slid back into his chair and kicked his feet up on the table, leaning the chair back onto its hind legs and fighting to conceal his swiftly deepening blush. "Hey, Katt, great to see you! You look as gorgeous as ever."   
  
From her familiar seat upon the windowsill, Celestra scowled deeply and shifted onto her feet. She hated admitting it to herself, but she could no longer deny her attraction to Falco and rather felt she had some claim to him. Crossing her arms and clearing her throat loudly, Celestra asked, "Excuse me; I don't mean to sound rude, but who the hell are you?"   
  
Everyone in the room seemed to remember she was there at the time; as one the mercenaries and Katt glanced her way. Celestra set one foot to tapping loudly, boots responding to her annoyance, and with the specter of murky grey and green Zoness lurking out the window behind her, her silhouette seemed much more ominous than they could ever recall seeing it.   
  
The feline blinked once but recovered her sugary tone in the span of three heartbeats. "I'm Katt Monroe, an affiliate of Division Three of Arspace Technology, an operating base of Zoness." Then, to Fox, she added, "When did you pick up a female mercenary? That's just adorable!"   
  
Fox was spared the inevitably embarrassing answer as Celestra piped in, "I'm no female mercenary; I'm Celestra Marquette, Pepper's number one assassin. And I'll also be much obliged if you can see fit never to refer to me as 'adorable' again."   
  
Katt's eyebrows lifted delicately, accenting her luminous sapphire eyes. "I see! Well, Miss Marquette, I can say with all honesty that, being an employee of Arspace since the age of fifteen, I have never heard of you."   
  
Celestra studied the woman watching her smugly from the G-Diffuser screen with mounting dislike. The seemingly casual answer was actually something of a challenge, one that the clever assassin was only too eager to accept. "Oh, is that all? I've been an assassin in Lylat since the age of thirteen. And, I apologize, but 'Miss'? Dear, we're not in kindergarten anymore, let's try to act a bit closer to our age."   
  
An expression of disgust found its way through Katt's sweet facade, as though she had just swallowed a great gulp of sour milk. Meanwhile the Star Fox members were frequently glancing back and forth between the two as though witnessing a very exciting, fast-paced tennis match. The signal from Pepper's starship bleeped impatiently again, causing Slippy to flinch in alarm. "Er, ladies, let's wrap this up, shall we? Pepper says he hasn't got much time, and his information's urgent." Before any more arguments could break out he connected to the Vortex Four communications, and General Pepper looked around at them all, smiling jovially.   
  
"I do hope you're all rested?" he began conversationally, and Fox nodded his assent. "Very good. I've just received intelligence that the entire third division of Arspace Technology has een usurped by one of the several Venomian squadrons that Captain Anilora's men drove back from Fortuna a day or so ago. Thankfully one of our ambassadors was on assignment to Aquas when this occured, and she should be meeting with us shortly to explain the situation--"   
  
"Already here, General," Katt broke in smoothly, clapping her hands together in a businesslike manner. "Right, boys, here's the breakdown--three days ago I departed Zoness under the General's orders to aid in the construction of our newest weapons outpost on a secluded island in Aquas' western hemisphere. Yesterday one of Captain Anilora's top lieutenants informed me that the primary Venomian attack force had been driven back to the three planets north of Solar, and strongly suggested that I return to help defend my planet."   
  
"Looks like that went well for you," Celestra murmured to herself, and Katt glared at her poisonously before continuing.   
  
"Obviously the Venomians pressed in too quickly for retaliation on my part, but I have been detailing weak points in their defense around the complex." A small blueprint grid of the Arspace building criss-crossed the screen in the corner of the room, and they focused their attention on it. "I could reclaim the complex by myself if it weren't for the supply depot and enemy tankers; they're within half a mile and would capture me before I could complete the mission."   
  
Peppy leaned forward and refilled his coffee mug. "Do you have an estimate of their numbers?"   
  
"Can't be more that one hundred between both locations," Katt assured him with a smile. "Nothing you boys can't handle."   
  
"What if we try our hacking gig again?" Slippy suggested to Celestra. "If we can put Metgiacon through the floor, we're more than a match for some supply depot."   
  
But Celestra was shaking her head before he had even finished speaking. "Everyone in the galaxy has heard of our initial strike by now; Andross will have smarter guys on our tails this time around, and we can't risk Great Fox getting hacked."   
  
"So we use the direct approach," Fox mused to them, leaning forward and linking his fingers together. "We hold up Division Three until they surrender it, then we drive them back."   
  
"And if they stand and fight?" Peppy asked him.   
  
Fox seized the coffee pot and refilled his mug, letting the steam waft up into his face. "Then we take them all out."   
  
Falco was still goggling avidly at Katt, who made a rough purring sound deep in her throat and winked at him. Celestra, now more than a little annoyed, whisked out a switchblade and sent it flying in his direction, where it thudded and wobbled ominously for several seconds embedded in the table millimeters from the hand clutching his new mug. Katt scowled dangerously at the female assassin; Falco, however, seemed to remember than she was there yet again and offered her an apologetic gaze.   
  
General Pepper delicately cleared his throat. At that time, his G-Diffuser started buzzing. "Excuse me, I have another call . . . " The next thing they knew, another face had joined Pepper's and Katt's on the screen--that of Captain Anilora. The hand that Wolf's teeth had mangled now bore only the scars of the injury, and the battle fire burned more intensely than they had ever seen it.   
  
"Do forgive the interruption," he began, and none of them missed the eagerness in his voice. "General, with your permission, Bill and I would like to lead the fleet into battle at Sector X combat zone." As he finished his eyes shot to Celestra, sitting on the windowsill at the back of the room, and they grinned excitedly at each other.   
  
Pepper shuffled with a few papers in front of him. "The situation if you please, Gilraen."   
  
Yet another detailed map popped up on the coordinate screen above the mainframe; various blips and space structures were labeled beside the outline of the Arspace compound. "As you can see, one of the rogue Venomian squadrons was overlooked as we departed Katina three days ago. They have gathered on the outermost rim and are barring our shortest route to Titania." The southernmost sectors of the combat zone magnified, and Anilora continued. "Avoiding the impending fight is possible, but would cost us at least another twelve hours."   
  
General Pepper carefully perused the grid, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What do you believe to be the best course?"   
  
Instead of answering the question outright, Anilora merely said, "In this stage of the war, can we afford to give Andross half a day?" Again he glanced back to Celestra, and this time she smiled more broadly and nodded her approval. Falco happened to glance up at the same time, and a finger of jealousy licked his insides.   
  
A slight pause followed, then Pepper said, "A valid point as always, Gilraen. Follow your good judgment--get in touch with me as soon as you may."   
  
"I will," Anilora promised, and then he turned his attention upon Celestra one last time. "Luck to you as always in your endeavors, Celestra. I should like to contact you when my fleet has broken through to Titania, if I may."   
  
"Always an honor, Gilraen," she responded honestly, and with a bow and a grin of purest pride, Anilora departed.   
  
"My army is laying in wait on western Fortuna," Pepper exclaimed. "I trust the six of you together will have little difficulty in reclaiming Division Three?"   
  
"Count on it," Fox assured; behind him, Celestra nodded detirminedly. The general saluted them all and also left.   
  
"Well," Katt began again, stretching languidly. "I'll send out my current location and wait for you boys to join me, shall I?" Brushing a stray strand of hair out of her lazy, luminous eyes, Katt gathered her gear and made to leave, turning back only to say, "Can't wait to see you, angel." Then the screen went blank.   
  
An explosion of laughter rocked Falco from all sides, and he collapsed back onto the carpet, beak now a livid shade of scarlet. "I'd forgotten she used to call you that!" Slippy shrieked.   
  
"Angel!" Fox taunted, and the pair dissolved into giggles.   
  
A door slammed hard behind them, without a word, Celestra had gone.   
  
~~*~~  
  
When Great Fox had at last come into orbit around Zoness, the mercenaries met in the docking bay, preparing to launch. To their dismay Celestra was no present, and of course Falco was unanimously nominated to locate her. She was in her room, and when he entered to speak with her he was immediately sorry he had.   
  
"Er . . . Celest?" Falco began timidly, poking his head into the room. "Our departure time was ten minutes ago."   
  
The female assassin was laying on her back on the bedspread covering the twin mattress, dressed in her flight gear and combat boots, but her utility belt lay forgotten on the floor beside her knapsack. She did not look up when he spoke, but continued to study her fingernails with keen interest. "Then you should have departed ten minutes ago."   
  
Against his better judgment the avian slipped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. "We were waiting for you."   
  
"You're wasting your time."   
  
"What are you talking about?"   
  
"I'm not going."   
  
Falco hesitated for a few seconds before asking, "Why not?"   
  
Celestra was no longer feigning interest in her nails now; quite the contrary she was glowering at Falco and her fists were clenched. "I refuse to be seen fighting alongside that uppity prima-donna, nearly as much as I refuse to witness your relentless drooling over her throughout the mission. Therefore, I am not going."   
  
Falco sat on the edge of the bed and said softly, "Katt and I have not been together in a long time. I'd have thought you'd have realized by now that I like you." As he finished he settled one hand upon hers; in the blink of an eye she had pulled away and leapt to her feet. "Come on, Celest, she was hitting on me in front of everyone! How was I supposed to act?"   
  
"Like you cared about me and had forgotten about her!" Celestra said, voice rising as she rounded on him in barely contained fury.   
  
Now Falco sprang to his feet, anger consuming him. "You know I care about you--what, do you need me to sing it for you?"   
  
"No, Falco, in fact, I'm at least ten times more secure than you are!" She was shouting now, and her eyes seemed electric in her mounting rage. "At least I'm mature enough to be faithful in this relationship!"   
  
"Oh, so now you're innocent?!" cried the avian. "Excuse me--who was snogging Captain Anilora, like, fifteen minutes ago?"   
  
"DON'T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT!!!"   
  
A ringing silence fell, and Falco felt a wash of shame as Celestra stood there, panting and literally shaking with fury. It was a line he had not meant to cross, but in the heat of the moment Falco had let all of his hatred explode. He nearly trembled when she spoke again, for her voice was quiet, icy, and venomous, a promise of vengeance.   
  
"Gilraen Anilora is the most valiant, courageous man I have ever known," she whispered, and a look of purest nostalgia crossed her face then. "And he is twice the man you could ever hope to be."   
  
Falco sat down heavily, insides now resembling cold, molten lead. "You . . . you can't mean that."   
  
Celestra clasped the utility belt around her slender waist and set her hands firmly on her hips, smirking in defiance. "Oh, I'm pretty sure that I do. And you can't look me in the eye and tell me that I have no reason to say it."   
  
The avian opened his beak to speak, but no sound came out. Celestra's smirk widened into a knowing, mocking smile, and she left.   
  
~~*~~  
  
The five of them converged within an open hangar, standing resolutely side-by-side and gazing out at the toxic remnants of the once-proud seventh planet, Zoness. It was a bleak, desolate place; like Aquas, there was more ocean than land, but what had once been clear, pure water was now little more than a sluggish, sickly metallic green jelly that bubbled and glooped with a myriad of unknown and undoubtedly deadly toxins. Very few areas of land dotted the surface, great chunks of a pale rock no more than three or four miles in area at the largest. Strange birds with spindly claws and leathery wings soared on the thermals carried up from the poisonous fumes, and every so often a sort of mutant admura broke the surface, snapping at the birds, and dove down below again.   
  
"I've only passed through here twice before," Fox began quietly, transfixed as he stared down at the churning gelatin. "That was about two years ago."   
  
"I remember," Falco offered. "We were partners in the Adamant Confrontation and passed on our way to Macbeth. The conditions have worsened since then."   
  
Celestra sighed and hugged herself. "Nuclear waste from Area 6 Defense Station and Bolse Defense Outpost has been dumped here for years. Bill and I spent half a year here participating in negotiations with the citizens to gain support on the construction of Division Three. While we were here we witnessed the complete planetary meltdown. I was fifteen."   
  
"Katt's Arwing is emitting a private signal for us," Slippy cut in, monitoring the blips on a handheld computer tracking system. "We're within range of sight, I think; yes, look, just there." Pointing at one of the more insignificant islands he brought to their attention a miniscule glimmer that could only be a Zonessian Arwing.   
  
"Let's rock and roll," said Fox, and they boarded their spacecraft and descended slowly to meet with Katt.   
  
"Glad you could make it," she greeted them when they had finally landed and joined her. She was wearing the official uniform of Arspace Technology, but she had artistically ripped and torn it so that it framed her womanly curves suggestively; Celestra snorted and elbowed Falco in the ribs when she caught him glancing sideways at the feline. "Have we got a plan?"   
  
"I'm thinking hit-and-run," Fox explained, cramming his hands nervously into the pockets of his flight jacket. "We can split into two teams of three; one group can help get Arspace Division Three back, and the other can destroy the supply depot so their exports won't make it to the army supply base on Macbeth."   
  
"Demolition crew," Celestra muttered, and she, Slippy, and Peppy shared a snicker.   
  
"Right, I'll split us up, and we can get started . . . Slippy, Falco, and Katt, you guys save Arspace--"   
  
"What's the matter, Fox?" Celestra asked loudly. "Are you more scared of her than you are of me? If so, your fears are clearly misdirected."   
  
"I'm cuter and your little friends don't want to get me angry," Katt teased, smiling up at the much taller avian.   
  
Very surprisingly it was Slippy who first came to the assassin's defense, saying, "I'm one million percent positive that Celestra would tear you apart, Monroe."   
  
"Much obliged, Slippy," Celestra acknowledged, and instead of giving Katt the satisfaction of knowing that she was hurt Celestra slipped a hand into her flight vest, approaching Slippy and extracting something that she placed into his outstretched hand. He studied it and looked up at her questioningly, and in response to his confusion she offered only, "It'll get you inside without incident. Demolition crews don't need things like that." Then she looked over her shoulder at Falco, who was still standing too close to Katt for the assassin's liking. "Do what you want, Lombardi--either way, I still get the more fun job."   
  
"Okay, that's settled," Fox stated, looking very out-of-place. "Let's rendezvous back here when everything's been taken care of."   
  
They made to board their Arwings again when Celestra caught Katt clinging to Falco, deliberately smirking at the assassin. Celestra grinned at the immaturity of it all and whispered under her breath, "I'm above your pointless masquerades, Monroe. You can have him if he means that much to you."   
  
For the first time in several years she allowed herself to think softly of Gilraen Anilora, even going so far as to permit a flare of anxiety to well in her chest for the next time she spoke with him. Falco caught the expression of nostalgia upon her face again as they parted ways, and cast his eyes away in jealousy and regret.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Slippy was still fuming a bit at Katt's behavior when he settled back into his Arwing, readying to sneak into the usurped Arspace compound. The respect he held for Celestra and her work had grown considerably over the past few weeks, particularly after she had dashed headlong into a rescue mission for her best friend, and now he felt strangely as though he must defend her. It wasn't a secret that she and Falco were something of lovers of late, and just witnessing Falco's re-awakened interest in Katt made Slippy angry and frustrated.   
  
The three of them took off in a tight-knit V, Katt leading, and the youngest mercenary had to fight hard to sublimate a massive gagging reflex when he laid eyes upon her Arwing.   
  
It was pink.   
  
Division Three was crawling with Venomians, but the island on which the complex had been built was very large and they had no trouble finding a place to land. A long knife was belted at Katt's hip and she was unholstering a pink laser pistol; Falco was setting the frequency on a long, narrow electron rifle, and the pair of them looked expectantly at Slippy, eager to see the technological mercenary's newest weapon.   
  
From a pocket in his flight jacket Slippy whisked out a miniscule laser gun, no more than four inches in length. Falco sputtered in disbelief and Katt burst into a fit of high-pitched laughter.   
  
"Come on, Slip, get serious! What is that?!"   
  
Slippy shrugged his shoulders and re-pocketed the tiny weapon with a mischievous grin. "I named it the Aggravator." He gave a playful wink and added, "Size isn't everything, you know. Wait until we see some action; you won't have a sarcastic thing to say."   
  
The pair of mercenaries fell into step behind Katt as she crept through the shadows, wending her way stealthily in between piles of debris and the pale rocks that were customary upon Lylat's seventh planet. There's a titanium gate around the back of the complex; it fences in the radioactive testing plant. It's probably a lot less guarded than, say, the main gate, so I think we should just scurry on back and give it a try."   
  
The trio reached the highly-fenced area and crowded around the entrance door, only to find it was bolted and locked tightly from the opposite side. Falco hefted the electron rifle to blast out the incumbersome thing, but Katt's ears twitched in warning and she stepped in front of him.   
  
"Use your head, angel. This door's made of adamantite, the strongest constructive substance known to Lylat." As a demonstration she scratched her well-manicured claws down the side of the door, smiling grimly when she left no marks. "We'd need a high-frequency proton rifle and no electron rifle to make progress on this thing, and even then it would take more time to melt through than we've got."   
  
Falco sighed and ruffled his feathers in agitation. "Alright, okay, you've made your point. Now how do we get in?"   
  
"Allow me." The youngest mercenary picked his way forward between the feline and the avian and rummaged about in yet another pocket of his flight jacket, brandishing a rather unremarkable pewter key about four inches in length. It was strung by a rather fine chain of pale silver, and the only accent that kept it from being perfectly plain was the glittering diamond set into its miniscule handle.   
  
"Is that a key to the compound?" Katt pressed him, curious.   
  
Slippy shook his head, now grinning. "Better: it's a key that unlocks any lock." He worked it gingerly into the offending lock, sensitive ears picking up the sound it made as it magically transformed to best fir the components within. A few moments later the tumblar slid aside; the bolt lifted, and they slipped into the isolated radioactive area. "Celestra lent it to me; she said Captain Anilora gave it to her after we escorted his fleet through Sector Y combat zone."   
  
Falco's beak screwed up in recollection; the avian cursed Anilora and all of his selfless actions, then cursed himself for thinking so negatively. A second later he realized he had just missed most of what Slippy was now suggesting, and proceeded to shake his thoughts back into the matter at hand.   
  
"--Easier if you two could flank me while I make a run for the upper levels, because they'll have us marked if we all bust inside, okay?"   
  
Katt had folded her arms defensively and was glaring up at Falco as though something had just occured that she did not approve of; in spite of himself, Falco answered, "Gotcha, Slippy."   
  
"Thanks, Lombardi," hailed the toad, flinging the chain protectively about his neck and bringing forth the dwarf of a gun Aggravator. "You're the greatest." Then he flattened himself against the nearest wall, motioning for the pair to flank him, and Falco took up his electron rifle and nodded for Slippy to be off.   
  
"And why did you just agree to let Slippy enter the compound alone?!" Katt shrieked in disbelief as soon as their third party had run off.   
  
"Oh, is that what I did?" Falco asked, letting loose a pair of shots to draw attention away from his fellow mercenary as warning sirens rent the air. "Let it go, Katt. Come on, it's Slip! The little guy's more dangerous than an admura in a cage!"   
  
~~*~~  
  
Two flights of stairs later Slippy had crested the landing that undoubtedly led into the heart of Arspace Division Three. Wild laser fire was taking place in the fenced-in compound below now, and the technological mercenary could pick out the loud 'tsew-tsew' sound of Falco's rifle and the subtle 'blip' sounds as Katt's pistol came into action. Confident that the duo could prevent any unwanted company from following his trail, Slippy inserted the mystical key again and gently eased the heavy adamantite door shut behind him.   
  
He was standing in a pitch-dark hallway, breathing heavily as his non-physical body struggled to return to a state of normalcy. Edging forward, both hands clutching his tiny weapon like a secret agent, he crept down the hall, wincing every time his boots clacked against the floor and wishing he had a pair like Celestra's. With every step he felt certain that the Division's usurpers would come swooping down upon the resonating noise, and when he had at last reached the first perpendicular hallway he was quite surprised no one had.   
  
The wristwatch communicator he wore bleeped twice; Slippy shrieked in alarm and punched a few buttons. "What do you guys want?!"   
  
"Lovely to hear from you, too," came Celestra's voice from the device. "Where are Falco and Katt?"   
  
"Outside giving me cover," Slippy whispered back, side-stepping the right-hand corner and glancing the opposite way as he moved forward. "I insisted on coming in alone; it'll get done quicker this way and I got tired of their constant bickering."   
  
The assassin chuckled. "Well, we've got everything under control at, er, what's left of the supply depot--"   
  
"'What's left of it'?" Slippy repeated skeptically.   
  
"Fox and I got a tad bit trigger-happy," Celestra explained delicately. "Anyway, get a move on so we can all head back to Great Fox--the real action is in Sector X combat zone, and that's where Gilraen and Bill are." With that, the signal was terminated.   
  
It was slow going from then on; the silence pressed in upon the young toad like dead weight and the continued lack of presence served to make his sense of hearing extra-sensitive, so that eventually his ears began to play tricks on him. Naturally when he began hearing voices beyond the wall to his immediate right he expected they weren't really there.   
  
"Hello?" he muttered sheepishly.   
  
A hush came down in the room beyond, then someone must have scrambled closer because he heard, "Who's there?"   
  
Excitement flooded into Slippy's chest, for he knew he had just stumbled upon the room full of Arspace hostages. "My name's Slippy Toad, and I'm a mercenary for General Pepper. I'm here to set you guys free--if you can point me in the direction of the door."   
  
"I could tell you where the entrance is, but you'd never be able to locate it from out there," the voice explained. "The Venomians have cryogenically sealed the door from the inside, so there is literally no external entrance."   
  
Slippy didn't feel disappointed for long; quite the contrary he was relieved to be speaking to a group of people who were undoubtedly on his high intelligence scale. Cocking back the Aggravator he asked, "Can you get everyone to clear away from the immediate area without drawing attention? I have a more direct approach I can try." From the interior of the room the muffled sounds of people moving frantically aside could be heard; Slippy turned and backed away from the wall several feet and leveled his miniscule weapon.   
  
It was as though he had thrown a grenade at the wall; the hallway exploded around Slippy and the laser gun and engulfed the air with heavy curtains of smoke. The laser wave that erupted from the end of the barrel did not only sear away a small portion of the offending wall, but blew out an enormous ten foot by ten foot hole through the plaster. Somehow through the amazing kickback Slippy managed to keep his feet, and gradually the clouds of thick grey smoke evaporated, exposing the room beyond.   
  
And perhaps ten armed Venomian soldiers.   
  
Slippy couldn't risk firing again and harming the Division Three hostages, but without the use of the Aggravator he was completely without weapon. Decision made, the toad pocketed the gun and fled, hoping the Venomians were dense enough to follow so the Zonessians had the opportunity to escape. As he glanced back over his shoulder frantically and discerned that they had taken the bait, a wave of relief washed over his insides and he turned a corner, running back the way he had come.   
  
Flinging the adamantite door back and straining the hinges, Slippy clasped the railing dependently as he heaved for breath. He could flee back down the stairs to Falco and Katt, but the sounds of battle still rose up from the compound below and it was possible the three of them would be overrun. He kicked the door shut, letting the deadbolt catch, and tested the strength of the powerful handle. He was confident the thing could hold his weight, at least for a short time, so he fumbled with the chain at his neck and inserted the mystical key into the lock again. Listening with all his might for the pursuing enemies he positioned himself behind the door, and at the last moment tugged it open, snagging the key up into his hand.   
  
The Venomians barreled through the open door; unable to so quickly reverse their forward momentum they all smashed into the guardrail and careened over, tumbling down two flights of stairs to crash into the concrete floor below. Slippy just had time to clench the chain firmly between his teeth before he, too, flew headlong over the railing, but his hands clutched the door handle with all his strength. His chest slammed hard into the protective grate encompassing the landing; a groan escaped his clenched teeth, but the handle held fast under his weight.   
  
For several awful seconds he hung there, sweating and straining, before he realized the near impossibility of hauling himself back over the grate to safety. Celestra, Fox, and Falco could accomplish it in a pinch, but the technological mercenary had little more chance of doing so than flying without an Arwing. Flexing the muscles in his arms Slippy attempted the foolish action; he succeeded in lifting himself perhaps six inches before his strength gave, leaving him helplessly limp far from the ground.   
  
A pair of rough hands grasped at his wrists, and Slippy glanced up in fear. A young coyote stood there, smiling down at him, a troupe of Division Three technicians flanking him. Together they pulled him up and over the ledge, and he sat there panting, key clutched tightly in one fist again.   
  
"Nice firepower," the coyote acknowledged happily, dusting his uniform with a meticulous eye and gazing down at Slippy admiringly. "Is that our new model Cricket X-4?"   
  
"No," Slippy replied slightly breathlessly, accepting the coyote's hand up and securing the chain again about his neck. "It's my own design, though I must admit the idea came from seeing one of those a few weeks ago. I named it the Aggravator."   
  
"Carbon-based with argon filaments?" the coyote asked him, motioning for them all to start down the stairs in the direction of the compound.   
  
"Sure is, but I couldn't find a second filament to neutralize the smoke output. Other than that, it's flawless." As an afterthought Slippy added, "By the way, Katt Monroe and a colleague of mine are securing the perimeter."   
  
They came to the bottom of the first flight, pausing only to ensure their safety before moving on. "I'm glad she's alright; when she didn't turn up we feared they'd killed her." Then the coyote grinned. "We find if you add traces of neon, the smoke lessens considerably."   
  
Slippy grinned back. "I hadn't even though to try that!" Extending his hand he added, "I'm Slippy Toad. Glad to know you're all okay."   
  
"Keil Ford," replied the coyote, accepting the hand and shaking it merrily. "Chief engineer of Arspace Division Three. The Venomians spoke of Star Fox coming; we hadn't dared believe it was true."   
  
Before Slippy could dismiss those fears a shrill whistle rent the dank air; the Arspace members and Slippy flattened themselves quickly against the stairwell banister, and Keil's eyes perused the sky anxiously.   
  
"What's that?" asked the mercenary quietly.   
  
"The air-raid sirens," Keil murmured back. "Looks like you brought more company than you realized."   
  
Slippy sprinted the last stairs and into the compound with Keil hot on his heels; someone shoved the pair of them roughly against the fence and lasers pounded down around them. Falco melted out of the shadows and pointed upward as Rage of Macbeth, SpiritNova, and Nebulafire assaulted the sea of swarming Venomians.   
  
"Oh," Keil offered sheepishly.   
  
~~*~~  
  
They all stood together outside the enormous complex, the four mercenaries, the two technicians, and the assassin, taking in the scorched ground and little brush fires from the skirmish. Division Three had seen better days, they unanimously decided, but the day was won and they had lost no lives.   
  
"We will rebuild," Keil assured them, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "When the Venomians are driven back and Andross has nowhere in the galaxy to run, we will all rise and take back what's ours."   
  
Celestra smiled softly at Falco and wrapped an arm about his waist; Katt scowled venomously at the avian, but he only smiled down at the assassin and slung a wing about her shoulders. Fox and Peppy whistled at their companions, voicing their urge to depart. Slippy turned to join them aboard the Great Fox, but Keil stopped him short and pushed a small vial into the mercenary's hand.   
  
"What's this?" Slippy questioned him.   
  
Keil smiled, gratitude gleaming in his eyes. "Neon filament for your little wonder of a gun. The next time I see you use that in action, I expect a bit less smoke."   
  
Slippy clenched the vial in his fist and clapped the coyote on the shoulder. "Thank you. Take care of yourself, Keil--I'll be looking for you when we've won the war."   
  
"And I you."   
  
The cruiser departed Zoness and was back in orbit an hour or so later. It was around the same time that Captain Anilora, Bill, and the Katinan fleet won at Sector X combat zone and drove the primary force all the way back to Titania, the outermost reaches of the realm of Andross. 


	15. Chapter Fourteen: The Longest Night

Chapter Fourteen: "The Longest Night"  
  
"--But after they broke ranks the second time we split them down the middle," Anilora explained. "The battle was short-lived after that."   
  
Far from congratulating the Katinan captain on his easy victory at the combat zone, Celestra narrowed her eyes and set to tapping her nails lightly upon the table beside the couch on which she reclined. It was late, very late for either of them to be awake and having a conversation, but while the Star Fox mercenaries slept soundly after a difficult day the pair could not bring themselves to do the same. Celestra had insisted upon hearing the play-by-play of the battle, and the observant captain had seen all the details.   
  
Anilora rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn before saying, "You believe the conflict was purposely one-sided?" "I don't know what to think," Celestra admitted, running a hand through her frazzled raven hair. "I had expectd that particular fight to last for many hours and yield no outright victor; little more than an hour passed and the force has fled to Titania as though their lord has ordered it." Her eyes strayed to a window and fell upon the metallic blue surface of Macbeth, and before she could stop it a sigh had passed her lips.   
  
Violet eyes dull and tired, Anilora studied her carefully. After many silent seconds passed between them he whispered, "You think as I do. The battle was too short, too easily won. Andross is drawing us blindly into the outer reaches of his domain, an area that begins with Titania and Macbeth." He continued to study her, waiting to see how the name of her home planet might affect her, but he was not prepared for the words that followed.   
  
"I have to go back there, Gilraen." She spoke in deep resignation, as though it were the last course she wished to take. "Andross knows we're on the move and swiftly closing ground; he's testing me now, trying to see how far I can go without losing myself."   
  
Now Anilora leaned forward, concern etched into his intelligent, handsome features. Celestra gazed back at him unseeingly, eyes roving over the past, remembering events no seven-year-old girl should have to carry with them for twelve long years. Vaguely he remembered hearing of Macbeth's fall as a boy of eleven, of the tales that rose up shortly afterward to speak of a single northern child who had narrowly escaped. In his early days at General Pepper's side he remembered the man telling him that if Celestra had died that day it was likely that Andross's rise would have remained secret, and the Lylat System would have fallen to the Venomians in little time thereafter.   
  
How could you reclaim the past after living through that?   
  
He understood the situation, had not been surprised to learn of her rebellious behavior toward Star Fox at the start of the war. They did not comprehend the finer points or the grand scheme that was Celestra's life, could not hope in a thousand years to grasp even a thread of her unhappy existence. The mercenaries, like the rest of society, saw her only as a hero, a warrior, not a person. She could not shut our her past any more than he could see her through it, so she did the only thing she could: she hunted whomever she encountered who could possibly have a hand in the tragedy. Behind the whirling blades and steely blue eyes there was only bitter hatred; within every movement, every breath she took, there was only despair. Her entire life had led her down a path littered with loss to this moment, the day when she would be forced to return and face her past.   
  
Anilora was a strong, resilient man, but the mere thought nearly broke him.   
  
"I'll be right there with you--"   
  
Celestra scoffed at him, as if to dismiss the notion, but on the inside it pained her to deny company in such a trying ordeal. "You can't help me, Gilraen. This past is mine to suffer; whether I succeed or falter I must do it alone."   
  
"You should not shoulder this burden alone--"   
  
"It will always be mine to bear!" she cut him off again, voice rising and full of emotion. "When Macbeth fell twelve years ago and demanded I escape and remember always the dying cries of my father, I did; when General Pepper demanded that I be his greatest killing machine in the name of good, I did; when Katina begged me to see you through to captaincy, I did; when all the galaxy cried out to me to place my sorrow in the back of my heart and protect them in their time of need, I did, Gilraen. And now, when all I can do is get up and struggle forward as I have always done, I will."   
  
Anilora sighed and collapsed back into his chair, feeling more tired and haggard than he could ever remember feeling. He would never convince proud Celestra Marquette to allow him to aid her in this, perhaps her greatest adventure, because it had always been hers to accomplish. Voice soft, he said, "I would have followed you."   
  
The assassin's eyes looked away from him, straying again to the surface of Macbeth. "No matter how desperately I want you to be there, I could never allow it. It will always be mine to bear."   
  
~~*~~  
  
No one was in a particularly good humor when General Pepper called upon the Great Fox the following afternoon, especially a very exhausted Celestra, who had found no sleep after Anilora left. They settled pell-mell about the briefing room, muttering words of thanks as ROB passed around various caffeinated soft drinks to each of them, and Pepper cleared his throat.   
  
"Well," he began, and the five of them eyed him suspiciously when his voice came out nervous. "You're not going to be pleased when you hear this newest bit of information, but--Andross has constructed a mystery space base within Sector X Combat Zone."   
  
Falco snorted into his Mountain Dew. "Where does this guy get all his spare time?" Everyone eyed him darkly, so he asked sheepishly, "What's the big mystery?"   
  
A grid appeared beside Pepper's face, many of the outlined squares blinking red. "Two things, really. Firstly, the base randomly disappears upon occasion, warping to another location in the combat zone for a time before de-materializing again. Secondly, it's guarded by a third bio-weapon."   
  
An annoyed silence settled over the room like fog.   
  
"You've got to be joking," Fox stated dangerously.   
  
"I quit," groaned Falco.   
  
"Me too," put in Slippy.   
  
"Find yourself another assassin, I can't take this ridiculous business," Celestra moaned, collapsing back against the couch.   
  
"Now, really!" Pepper pleaded, eyes gleaming in such a way that his nerves clearly showed. "Up until this point what have you done?"   
  
"Ran around like fools and got the crap kicked out of us," Falco snorted, preening his feathers apprehensively.   
  
"No, no, no," Peppy corrected quietly, and everyone turned to look at him. "With the exception of our battles with Star Wolf and Reivin Frost, every mission has yielded us as the victors. Where our mercenary counterparts are concerned, we've seen only a stalemate."   
  
"Doubtless they'll be lurking around every corner of this mystery base when we get there," Celestra scoffed, and the others hissed and rolled their eyes. "I'm all for it, General. I spoke with Gilraen last night; the Katinans rest on the eve of battle with Venomians filtering out of Bolse Defense Outpost. They make for Sector Z Combat Zone when the force is defeated, and I mean to help them fight their way through to the end--wherever it takes us."   
  
Fox leaned forward, absently sipping from a Sierra Mist with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "What of your army? The Fortunan-Aquan alliance?"   
  
"We are resting on Katina and will be en route to Macbeth in two days," Pepper answered, straightening one of the medals on his jacket meticulously. "The alliance has just left Aquas and will be laying in wait at Division Three of Zoness until I give them the signal to advance."   
  
"And does the smaller fleet require an escort?" Slippy put in, now studying a myriad of numbers spiraling about the computer screen.   
  
"At the moment, no. Venomian forces seem to be completely unaware of their movements; when the alliance advances behind enemy lines it is very possible they will continue to go unnoticed until we have them best positioned to strike."   
  
"So does anyone have any objections to going on the hunt for this bio-weapon?" Fox asked his teammates. "Celestra, if you hope to rendezvous with the Katinans you really have no choice."   
  
Celestra looked up, fiddling with a butterfly knife. "I've made my choice; I'll head through Sector X." She turned her cool eyes upon each of them in turn; none opposed the chosen course, and she at last turned her gaze to the general in universal acceptance.   
  
"Excellent," barked Pepper. "I've spoken with Captain Anilora; he and his fleet await your safe arrival on the other side of the combat zone. Over and out."   
  
~~*~~  
  
Someone rapped lightly on his bedroom door; Falco started and looked up from an extensive search for his flight vest and shirt. Crossing the cluttered plane of carpet he tugged the door open, finding himself facing a rather awkward-looking Celestra, who was studying him sheepishly and fiddling with the zipper of her vest as she often did when something other than her job occupied her thoughts. He stepped back from the door to let her in, closing it behind her and feeling very self-conscious at his state of undress as his eyes darted to piles of strewn clothing.   
  
Then she said, "I never should have compared you to Gilraen. At least, not so negatively."   
  
Falco strode past her, purposely averting his gaze as he continued to search for his clothes. He meant to make her stew in her guilt for awhile, but found himself releasing a sigh that blew away these thoughts. "No; I'm sorry. You're completely right about Katt and me; we're over and I should have let her know it. I . . . don't know why I didn't." Forcing a smile and fishing for a fresh attempt at conversation he said, "You ready to tackle this bio-weapon thing?"   
  
"I'm scared, Falco."   
  
The words she spoke terrified him and he turned to face her from his kneeling position on the floor; she was sitting cross-legged on his bed and wearing the most awful expression of sick fear on her pale yet beautiful face. He rose, frowning, and crossed the room to sit next to her, but she did not move or look up, eyes still melded to something intangible that he could not see or understand. He draped a bare wing across her slender shoulders, wishing with all his heart that he could comprehend her past, feeling worse all the while for being so utterly useless in her time of greatest weakness. At last she looked up at him, enveloping him with her glacial eyes, and he at last realized: she was resting on the return to the pinnacle of her years of torment.   
  
"How do I go back?" she asked. Falco opened his beak to stumble through an answer before shaking his head in realization that the question was rhetorical. "I've spent twelve years in constant struggle to forget the life I lost; how do I go back now to reclaim and defeat it? Where do I start?"   
  
"I . . . " Falco let whatever words were coming to die upon his tongue, knowing nothing he said would help the situation anyway. She scooted closer and rested her head in the place where his shoulder joined neck, and he pressed a light kiss to her forehead before wrapping his arms around her waist. For many minutes the pair sat thus, contemplating the many ends to the many situations laid before them, until at last Celestra stirred and looked up at him, anxiety and doubt shining within her eyes. It was then that the taller avian leaned down and gingerly pressed his lips to hers.   
  
At first the assassin was frozen to the act, aware only that her lips had been claimed and she didn't know what to do in such a situation. Then she felt the slight edge of panic grow in Falco's face and his touch when she failed to react; just as he moved to part himself from her she cupped his face in her hands and deepened the kiss, successfully converting her natural intensity for life into a passion that made Falco pleasantly dizzy. His hands fumbled along her back, brushing over the scar that ran wickedly from shoulderblade to shoulderblade where Reivin Frost had portrayed his voracity; a shiver ran down Celestra's spine, and she came forward, hands roaming over his chest, magnifying the sense of desire.   
  
Slowly the pair toppled over onto the poorly-made bed, never breaking the heated kiss as their bodies came together in a needy embrace. Falco's head rested uncomfortably on a misshapen lump beneath the covers; Celestra's left hand, holding his head steady through the intense kiss, felt it too and groped for it. The kiss ceased with exhilerated panting that ended in shaky laughter on both ends when they recognized the lump to be Falco's missing shirt.   
  
"Slob," the assassin teased, sitting up and tightening her ponytail with a smirk.   
  
"You should talk," the avian protested, pulling the garment on over his head and sprawling lazily again. "If something's not perfect you practically have an aneurysm."   
  
Celestra rose and crossed to the door. "If only we weren't starting our next mission right now . . . "   
  
A chuckle escaped Falco's beak; the assassin's smirk widened, and she exited.   
  
~~*~~  
  
"So are we just running straight through?"   
  
Celestra's Arwing sped past those of the mercenaries', eyes glittering with excitement for the adventure ahead. Nothing came easy in her life, and she now considered the act of fighting her way blindly through a dangerous combat zone well worth a few enormous hugs from Anilora and Bill, who were waiting anxiously on the other side. "I am."   
  
"Celest, get back here!" Fox cried in exasperation. "We need to figure out just how we're going to do this!"   
  
"Okay, here's the plan--we cut through hard and fast and shoot anything that opposes us," the assassin replied snappishly. "Nobody ever said anything about doing this one cleanly--the sooner we get to the Katinans, the sooner we can advance."   
  
"I'm with her," Falco admitted with a shrug of acceptance, and MeteoRiot soared after Rage of Macbeth. Slippy followed with barely a thought for his limitless trust in the woman; Peppy and Fox exchanged glances in the G-Diffuser screen. At last Fox heaved a sigh and fired his engines, and the older hare quickly fell in behind his commander.   
  
Celestra veered a bit more to the north, following the transmitter signal that Anilora's cruiser Whitewater was emitting for them. "All figured we don't have the time to go looking for some weird base that warps of its own volition; I'm running on the assumption that if we don't find it, it's not important enough to be found. Andross's newest bio-weapon will most likely be hot on our tails, so we'll have to fight our way past it. I've got work to do, Fox--if you want to sit around and work through the finer points, you'll be doing it without me."   
  
"You're probably right," Fox grumbled, and then he smiled. "My team listens to you more than they listen to me anyway."   
  
"I've never once led them astray," Celestra reminded, and the four mercenaries formed a V-formation behind her craft. "Let's go! This is the first time I haven't been able to see where I'm going, and I don't like it."   
  
~~*~~  
  
Even as the five melted into the eerie blue-green fumes of the combat zone, another group of five Venomian craft glided level with the unsuspecting Great Fox. Reivin Frost slowed his ship to a steady hover; the four Star Wolf mercenaries followed suit. The assassin's malevolent green eyes glimmered hungrily as he stared after his quarry, for their adversaries were completely unaware of their stealthy pursuit.   
  
"Shall we attack their cruiser?" asked Wolf, warming his lasers.   
  
Reivin considered this for a moment, then shook his head forcefully. "We risk losing them in the combat zone, and I am well aware that they go to join the Katinans on the opposite end. If that occurs it will be difficult to attack them with surprise on our side; Bill will not drop his guard again now that he knows I pursue Celestra and not him." Here he glanced over at Leon, who alone among them seemed at ease, even bored, with the proceedings. "Similarly the Katinan captain will be heavily guarded. We must shoot them down now or they will undoubtedly cross into Andross's domain."   
  
"Agreed," sneered Pigma, rubbing his pudgy hands together gleefully. "Let's take them out!"   
  
The assassin fired his engines; his four colleagues did the same, sharing his ultimate goal.   
  
Celestra Marquette would not walk away this day.   
  
~~*~~  
  
Their thrusters at maximum they tore through the mysterious planes of interstellar wasteland, Celestra always leading, eyes fixed ever forward in the hope that soon they would see the full, magnificent Katinan fleet. A sense of apprehension and urgency hung about the lot of them, as though an icy finger of doom were stretching toward them. Still they flew onward and, to make the entire predicament slightly worse, remained unopposed.   
  
For many hours it continued thus, a desparate run through the hostile core of this empty and ominous place, and when the other end of Sector X at last came into view they allowed themselves to believe they would pass through unchecked and unchallenged. Peppy, bringing up the rear, saw it first.   
  
"Right flank!" he cried in warning, and the assassin and mercenaries collectively dove left. Something clipped Falco from behind and his ship spun from the impact, reeling end-over-end until the avian could re-orient himself. All had scattered with Peppy's shout; now they stared, aghast, at their offender.   
  
It greatly resembled a disproportioned robot, for its arms were unnaturally long and skinny, its head far too small for the rest of its body, and, strangest of all, it seemed to have been severed cleanly at the waist as it lacked legs altogether. Its mechanical parts moved fluidly and without any creaks or whines of protest; its eyes flickered upon each of them in turn, and the hope left their bodies with a wave of despair.   
  
"The bio-weapon!" Slippy shrieked, but the robot's next move blocked out his screams; with a wave of one of its massive appendages the robot forced the companions into a solely defensive posture. Celestra became cut off from the mercenaries when the machine swung again in a curving arc, driving her further north and them back the way they had come. From somewhere behind her Falco screamed; laser fire erupted from the four mercenary craft, and Celestra seemed paralyzed with indecision.   
  
Quite suddenly the assassin fell prey to the instincts she had lived by in her time before meeting Star Fox. It would be so simple to leave them to this fate and join the Katinans; they could did for the greater good of Lylat and she could go on, uninhibited by the further cripplings of friendship. After all, why should she sacrifice herself on their behalf?   
  
A horrifying crash resonated through the thick, musty air; Falco screamed again, and Celestra shook the poisonous thoughts away and sped back into the fray. No one had time to warn her that Star Wolf was launching a full-scale offensive against them, Reivin Frost at its head.   
  
"Still alive?" Reivin taunted icily, breaking from the larger battle to clash with his adversary.   
  
"You'll never be rid of me," Celestra shot back, and their paths crossed in the blackness of space, twining intricately about one another in a perfect display of dark grace.   
  
The goodly forces began losing badly, the mere knowledge of their goal lingering so near disheartening them more with each blow they took. Gradually the Star Fox members lost all heart for the fiht, all but being killed outright by their bitter rivals who did not seem worn at all from their restless pursuit. Only Celestra continued to oppose with utmost fervor, the almost suicidal glitter within the depths of her icy eyes conveying that fact easily.   
  
The bio-weapon was ravaging any plans Fox had made for his team to regroup; it attacked sparratically with its enormous arms, shattering their ranks any time they began to re-assemble. Falco was catching the brunt of the attacks, for every time he turned to escape the robot there was Leon Powalski blocking his retreat, and when he made to ensure Celestra's safety he ws swatted mercilessly with unearthly force.   
  
The female assassin heard all of their cries deep in her heart, and it pained her when she became aware that here, staring down her greatest enemy and separated by an enormous robot, she could not help them. Angry and frustrated she fled from Reivin, unable to bear Falco's terrified shrieks of agony any longer. She weaved right in between Peppy and Pigma, completely ignored the few shots Wolf took as she shot ast, the final throes of a last desperate sprint to rescue her lover.   
  
Seemingly as one entity they glanced up as Celestra sped past the bio-weapon, and as she matched and overcame it the thing reached out and struck with a powerful backhand. A sickening crunch wafted up from the collision; when Rage of Macbeth again became visible it seemed a crumpled mass of metal. Again the robot lashed out, this time snapping the left wing clean off the mangled Arwing, and as it flew spinning into empty space the creature snatched up Celestra's craft in its fist and hurled it away in the direction of Titania.   
  
Falco's eyes were wide with shock as the once beautiful spaceship carreened limply away from him. Celestra's shrieks of intense pain rang within his sensitive ears; he could see her petrified face in the G-Diffuser screen as she fell, and then her ship shut down and he was and heard nothing thereafter. Something burned at the backs of his dark, expressionless eyes, something he could never place in a thousand years, and then the craft had drifted helplessly out of sight.   
  
"Fall back," came Reivin's emotionless voice, and as swiftly as the five had descended into the merciless bloodbath they had disappeared back into the swirling mists. "Our work is finished here, and Andross will be pleased."   
  
"CELESTRA!!!" cried Slippy, and his craft shot from the ranks, forgetting about the weapon in his unplaceable despair.   
  
"No, Slippy!" Fox shouted forcefully. "We've got to complete our rendezvous; if we don't the entire advance may fall apart! They'll come looking for us if they think something's happened, or they'll be seen and attacked, or--"   
  
"Something has happened, damn it!" the youngest mercenary spat acidly. "Celestra fell! We can't just abandon her!"   
  
"I don't like it any more than you do, Slip," Peppy inserted quietly, and it pained him to say such things about the woman who was something of an adopted daughter to him. "But Fox is right; we must meet with Captain Anilora or we may lose the upper hand."   
  
Slippy was crying now, great sobs shaking his shoulders, and he was a sad sight to their eyes. "We can't . . ."   
  
"She would be forced to do the same were she in our position," Fox sighed, booting up his craft's main thrusters, bio-weapon far behind them. "Let's go, Falco."   
  
The avian couldn't bring himself to refuse, could barely even draw breath as he stared hypnotically at distant Titania. Had Celestra managed to crash there? Was she even alive? Or had her death already come upon swift wings as Rage of Macbeth spiraled through blackness?   
  
They started off, slowly now, hearts empty and heavy in one, made incomprehensible with loss. Slippy sobbed pathetically for the remainder of the hour and a half long journey, eventually triggering the full weight of the tragedy within each of their hearts in turn until at last they shared an ocean of helpless tears.   
  
Any man with the slightest knowledge of military excellence would have been stricken with the sheer power the Katinan fleet exuded; many of the strongest men in the galaxy would have trembled at the mere sight of Captain Anilora's grand flagship Whitewater and all its underlings gathered about in a display of godlike majesty. But the minds and hearts of all fours were far behind, fixated forever upon the single mutilated craft falling forever into nothingness, captivated by a blanket of ebony hair framing a pair of pale blue eyes that would haunt their darkest dreams. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen: The Search For Celestra

Chapter Fifteen: The Search For Celestra  
  
"Whitewater Intelligence, this is Fox McCloud and the mercenary unit Star Fox. We are approaching your cruiser and wish to board immediately."   
  
Falco's head throbbed madly as he focused his eyes upon the majestic Katinan craft. His blood felt frozen in his veins, his eyes strained as he stared down at Titania, and his stomach churned with guilt. They had left Celestra behind! She may be mortally wounded from the crash, dead even, and the four of them had turned tail and fled for their appointed meeting with the Katinan fleet? What sort of a friend, a lover, was he? Subconsciously the avian opened his beak, compelling himself to say, "We've got to go back for her", but no words followed this action and a few minutes later they had docked and left their craft.   
  
"We've got to speak with Captain Anilora," Slippy ordered one of the escorts as they were being led to their living quarters.   
  
The boy blinked several times. "I apologize, sir, but the captain is holding council with the other heads of the fleet and cannot speak at this time."   
  
For a moment it looked as though Slippy would accept this, then he came forward in an infuriated rush and slammed the escort against the wall, collar clutched menacingly in his balled fists. "That wasn't a request, damn it! This is important and something Anilora would want to know. So I suggest you take us to him before my friends and I lose our tempers, you get me?"   
  
In an attempt to gain aid in his predicament the boy glanced helplessly at Falco; the avian settled one wing upon the barrel of his electron rifle but made no outward threat. Understanding his precarious situation the escort nodded assent and Slippy snarled but roughly released him. They started off swiftly down the hallway, traversing most of the ship to reach their destination, pausing only to knock at the door to the meeting room before entering the war council.   
  
Seven men were seated at a rectangular rosewood table; the eighth, Captain Anilora, was on his feet at the head of the table, hands braced upon it as though he had been delivering important information before the interruption. Bill Grey was leaning against the wall behind his captain, flanking the man with one hand resting warily on a knife at his utility belt. Everyone's expressions changed into surprise and delight when they recognized their mercenary allies; Bill rushed forward to grasp hands with Fox.   
  
"Great to see you lot again!" the male assassin exclaimed, and Falco couldn't help but flinch at the jovial tone. "Glad ya made it through alright."   
  
A silence descended upon them all; Peppy glanced nervously down at Slippy, who shuffled his feet and looked away. Falco cast his stricken gaze upon the floor. Anilora straightened and asked delicately, "Where is Celestra? Why is it she is not with you?"   
  
Everyone glanced, terrified, to Falco. Bill released Fox's hand. "Yeah; where is she?"   
  
Falco ran a hand down his face, guilty rumbling intensifying within the pit of his belly. For some reason he couldn't explain he locked eyes with Anilora, who gazed worriedly back and clutched dependently at the back of his chair. It hit the avian as hard as a punch in the face from Leon Powalski when a subconscious voice whispered in his mind that Captain Anilora never would have left Celestra behind, regardless of the situation at hand. Feeling inferior to the Katinan captain Falco glanced away and muttered quietly, "Celestra's been shot down."   
  
For several seconds no one spoke, then Bill growled in rage and stalked toward Falco, slamming him hard against the wall and shoving his shorter frame up close to the avians'. "She fell, and you left her?! YOU LEFT HER BEHIND?!" When Falco failed to respond Bill reared back a fist and punched him hard in the beak, causing the avians' head to smack against the wall behind him with a crack. "She's been through hell to make sure we all get through safely and you LEFT HER?!" Still Falco could not speak, features not even remotely handsome now as they were smothered beneath a mask of submission and guilt; Bill punched him in the stomach with increasing force.   
  
"WILLIAM GREY!!!"   
  
All eyes turned in fear to Captain Anilora, who now stood straight and seemed to tower over them all, so awful was the look upon his otherwise handsome face. As Anilora stalked up to Bill, Falco was shocked to see the steadfast male assassin trembling under the Katinan captain's wrathful glare; with barely a movement he separated the brawling pair and fixed Bill with a look that clearly displayed his disgust.   
  
Then his eyes were upon Falco, and his expression changed to one of pleading. "You must tell me now what ill has befallen Celestra. Be courageous, now, and tell me, I beg this of you."   
  
Slippy, still angry that his team had departed without the assassin, spoke up before Falco could and relayed the whole tle to the council, beginning with their entrance into Sector X. A devestated hush fell over the room; Bill sat heavily down on the floor, covering his face with his hands, but Anilora rose and looked at them all, seemingly confused.   
  
"You all act as though she's dead," he pointed out simply.   
  
Fox rubbed his eyes and said dully, "It is highly unlikely that Celestra crash-landed on Titania, and even more unlikely that she would survive the crash. There is little hope that she's still alive somewhere."   
  
Anilora chuckled to himself and shook his head. "In all this time you've fought beside her, have you learned nothing? Celestra's will and stubbornness to survive renders her beyond such things." He motioned for Bill to rise and follow him and nodded to the mercenaries to invite them along, then turned his attention back to the war council. "Gentlemen, my deepest regrets, but my friends and I must depart. This event was unforseen to me, and I must now take the necessary steps to rectify it."   
  
They set off down the magnificent hallway, the captain leading, the other five trailing behind him wearing incredulous expressions and wondering just what Anilora was planning to do. Nearly every man in authority they encountered attempted to engage the captain in conversation, but to every person he only answered firmly, "I have important business to attend to; please excuse me."   
  
Cresting the bridge connecting living quarters with the docking bay and helm areas, Anilora steered them in the direction of the technological research board, and soon they were all inside and in the company of the top Katinan technician, a man by the name of Jered Nasmun.   
  
"What can I do for you, Captain?" he inquired briskly, shaking Anilora's hand.   
  
"I have a very important task for you, Jered," the captain began, accompanying his colleague to the research motherboard. "I need you to locate a transmitter distress signal, most likely set off automatically in a time of crisis."   
  
Jered rubbed his hands together and began typing. "Piece of cake. Do you have a license number or other registration information?"   
  
Anilora folded his arms and frowned slightly to himself. "The craft's name is Rage of Macbeth, but you will find this particular Arwing is registered under the name Legacy, licensed to Jarius Marquette. The registration company was a Fortunan location, but it no longer operates in accordance within the Cornerian Army guidelines. Will that do?"   
  
The technician kept typing, eyes focused keenly upon the code scrolling across the screen until at last a picture of Celestra's demolished Arwing came up. Falco gasped--the craft was no longer spiraling through empty space, but surrounded by pale golden sand! The assassin herself was not in sight, but the avian knew that if they could not see her, it was because she was already on her feet and seeking a new means of transportation or at the very least protection and shelter.   
  
"There, gentlemen," Anilora assured them, patting Bill upon the shoulder. "Celestra lives still, just as I predicted. Jered, I am forever in your debt." Then the captain himself bent a small, courteous bow to the head technician, causing the man to blush slightly, and they swept back out into the hall again in the direction of the docking bay. "Of course the four of you will be away to save her as soon as possible, Fox?"   
  
"Of course," the vulpine responded. "And the advance will be delayed until our return?"   
  
Anilora sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I will hold my forces back as long as I am able. You must be quick."   
  
"We'll be back soon," Bill promised, face set.   
  
His superior halted mid-step and eyes the assassin pointedly. "Your uses lie with your kindred; you cannot be spared, even for a short time. If the invasion is forced to move on before the mercenaries return, we will be crippled physically and emotionally without you."   
  
Bill seemed torn by opposing his beloved captain and leaving his dearest friend behind, but at last he insisted, "I've gotta go."   
  
"Understand," the Katinan captain began again calmly, and his friend sighed sadly. "Celestra would not wish for you to risk the greater good of Lylat to save her life. I know it pains you--I too am grieved, for I cannot go--but were she in the same position she would do her duty in the end. You must remain, Bill; I will need you and your people will need you."   
  
Bill nodded, hating what he had to do but knowing he was bound to the Katinan fleet. Then he turned to Falco, who expected to get punched again, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go and get her back, Lombardi," he ordered passionately, his eyes narrowed at the prospect of entrusting Celestra's fate to someone else. "Bring her back to us, so we can teach the scum who attacked her a lesson."   
  
The avian nodded his agreement and sprinted away with his comrades to their respected spacecraft; Captain Anilora and Bill watched them depart with heavy hearts, then rushed back to the war council.   
  
An arid wind whipped relentlessly against her fair face, stinging her cheeks with sand until she was driven back into consciousness. Bloodshot blue eyes stared up incoherently at the clouded bronze sky; through the curtains of endless sand the Solar nebula was a pale pink ball of fire that burned her sightless eyes until she nearly felt blind. It was hot, devilishly hot, especially laying prone upon sun-baked metal remnants that seemed to soak in the intense heat. She could feel blood drying unpleasantly on her exposed skin and vaguely wondered what was the matter, and eventually Celestra Marquette attempted to struggle to her feet.   
  
Excruciating needles of pain sliced into her left foot and ankle, and she gave a grunt of agony and buckled to fall back onto the sand. She made to brace her hands against the ground and relieve the pressure but only winced and groaned loudly again when she realized the bones in her right wrist were shattered. Drops of blood from a deep gash across her cheek dripped onto her cutoff jean shorts; Celestra collapsed onto her back, staring incomprehensibly up at the sky.   
  
Never in her years as an assassin had she experienced such intense physical agony; her entire body felt broken as she lay there, pointedly telling herself not to move for all the discomfort it would trigger if she did. Glancing at her mangled wrist she discerned that blood loss would soon become a problem if she did not wrap a few of her wounds with a cloth of some sort. Walking would be an awful chore, but Celestra had already decided that she could not stay put for long. She had fallen onto Titania, the Planet of Ever-Shifting Sand, the Keeper of Lost Souls.   
  
Using her elbows Celestra crawled back into the ruins of her once-proud spacecraft, teeth gritted together in defiance of the little pangs her ankle made as she drug it motionlessly behind her. The utility belt she normally wore for missions of this sort had been reduced to fragments in the crash; she had another in a security lockbox at the back of her fighter, but digging it out of the rubble would be an agonizing process as well. Forcing junk out of the way with her left hand Celestra managed to uncover it, but when she studied it more closely she couldn't help but force a little ironic laugh past her dry lips.   
  
The lockbox required a key; she had lost it years ago.   
  
"No food, no water, no shelter, and no protection," the assassin muttered to herself, wiping her blody cheek with the back of her good hand. "I'm roadkill. Even herbivores would convert to come take a bite out of me I'm so helpless. What in the world am I going to do if Reivin shows up?"   
  
Rising again to her feet Celestra studied her surroundings. There was nothing of value visible from this vantage point, just the occasional rock or dead tree, so it didn't particularly matter which direction she headed from here. The only factor that decided which way she set off in was the wind; sand in her eyes would be no help at all, so she turned so that her back was to the gusts and headed due east. Already her skin, so pale and fair, was burning beneath the relentless nebulalight, so she at least had to locate a decent shelter before going too far. Glancing once more at the offending lockbox she discerned the bolts to be adamantite, Lylat's strongest constructive metal, so busting the box was highly unlikely. Right arm dangling limply at her side the assassin slowly began picking her way out of the wreckage and into the curtains of sand, limping badly but clenching her good hand into a fist and growling away the discomfort.   
  
Here she could not stay put for long.   
  
"She's nowhere near the craft, according to this reading. Is it possible she was thrown out into space before the impact?"   
  
Fox swore loudly and clutched the fur on the top of his head, thoroughly frustrated. "Well, jeez, I guess that's possible, but--"   
  
"--That's not what happened," Slippy cut in, still clearly angry with the entire scenario. "She fell but she survived and was strong enough to walk away from the crash site. Come on, you guys--Anilora knows she couldn't just die in a crash, so we've got to think the same way."   
  
Four hours had passed since Celestra had fallen and they were now nearing desertlike Titania, Lylat's second and most mysterious planet. Little was known of this desolate place; many years ago Corneria had stored its more radical interplanetary weapons beneath the surface there, but shortly after the stockpile and all life-forms had disappeared. It was called the Keeper of Lost Souls because of that incident, an unexplainable phenomenon that was largely responsible for its rating as Class R, an inhospitable planet.   
  
The mercenaries were disheartened, gathered together in the briefing room of their cruiser and either pacing to pass the time or gazing into empty space, clearly lost. Falco was by far the most reserved, seated upon the windowsill where the assassin herself normally sat and staring blankly out at the swiftly growing body of Titania. It was the only planet in the Lylat System that boasted a fine set of rings; they were thin structures, a mysterious hue of dying carnations. Peppy was seated with his back to the lot of them; Fox was retracing his constant steps about the room and bantering with Slippy, who was staring, transfixed, at the frozen image of Celestra's wreck of an Arwing upon the mainframe screen.   
  
"Here's a thought," Fox growled, marching right past Peppy, who did not look up. "Has anyone here ever really set foot on Titania?"   
  
Slippy, frowning at the screen, shook his head; the avian made no move to respond, and Fox took that to mean no. Peppy at last began to show a slight interest in the conversation. "I have."   
  
"You have?" echoed the mercenary leader, turning quickly to face his old friend. "When?"   
  
The hare gave an uncomfortable sigh and eyed his commander warily. "During the first Lylat war. General Pepper enlisted Star Fox to aid in a shock strike to scatter a concentration of Destroyers readying to unleash their full strength upon Macbeth. Pigma was shot out of the sky before we even made it to our destination, and James refused to leave him behind, so he and I abandoned our mission and went after him." The color drained from Fox's face; Peppy looked down at the floor. "A few days later Pigma betrayed us when we penetrated Venomian airspace; the same group of Destroyers we let escape ultimately caused the tragedy that only Celestra survived."   
  
"There's a double dose of irony," Slippy sneered from the helm. "The friend you risked your life to save ended up your greatest nemesis; the shock strike you ignored delived Macbeth to Andross."   
  
Peppy, never particularly hostile, rose from his seat and fixed Slippy with an evil glare; the youngest mercenary wisely fell silent.   
  
"So you can show us around?" Fox asked, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes.   
  
Peppy's ears drooped slightly and he turned his back on the vulpine. "No one can navigate down there," he muttered dully, sitting down again. "That's an evil planet you've got down there, Fox, one that has a mind of its own and hates visitors. If it doesn't want us to find Celestra . . . then we won't."   
  
Falco pushed himself up off the sill and started swiftly for Peppy, pushing his beak up close to the hare's with a snarl. "What are you tryin' to say, old man?! That this psychotic planet can think for itself and we're not gonna make it to Celestra in time?!"   
  
"Take it easy, Falco," Fox warned, placing a hand firmly on the avian's shoulder and noticing that the feathers were ruffled in anger. "Let it go."   
  
"Seriously, man," Slippy threw in absently.   
  
Falco obeyed and roughly shoved Peppy away from him. "Just give me the LandMaster, Fox; I'll nuke the whole damn planet if I have to, but I'm not leaving her behind again."   
  
The LandMaster was something of a tank equipped with the same modes of laser fire and attack strength as its Arwing counterparts; the only real difference was that it was adapted for shorter, ground-based missions. It had been a gift to the mercenary squad from the army technicians that worked closely with General Pepper; up until this point Fox had simply forgotten that it was in their docking bay. He turned to ROB, who was milling beside the door. "Is that thing even fully operational? I remember Slippy saying that there were still kinks in it that needed to be smoothed over."   
  
"Affirmative," the AI assured him, drifting to the docking bay console and summoning a holo-grid of the craft in question. "It was in need of slight helm and communications repairs, but Slippy took care of that shortly after the completion of your mission within Solar's core."   
  
Fox lifted an eyebrow and turned to Slippy, who by now was leaning back in his swivel chair with his feet stacked boisterously on the table. "Oh?"   
  
"So I got bored," scoffed the toad, indifference evident by his facial features. "You know me--when I get bored, I fix stuff. You could thank me, you know."   
  
"Thank you, Slippy."   
  
"That's better; you're welcome."   
  
The Star Fox leader sized up the avian appraisingly, mulling the scenario over in his mind. By all accounts the LandMaster seemed a more thorough means of searching for their fallen accomplice; Falco could relay any information he came across to his comrades in the sky. However, Falco would be nearly blind in radical sandstorms at times, and his feelings for Celestra could only further complicate the mission.   
  
"Suit up, Lombardi. But I'll give the orders to nuke the whole planet, okay?"   
  
For the first time in her life, Celestra Marquette was losing hope.   
  
It was hot; far beyond such a general term, for never before had she known such a sweltering, arid heat. The entire cursed planet was on fire! Whipping sand pricked at her skin, swirled so quickly on the wind that it often pierced the flesh; the nebula rays baked the surface as would an oven, and for the life of her Celestra could not locate a suitable resting place. So far her trek yielded no caves, few boulders, and long-dead trees that could no more rescue themselves from the blazing inferno than her. Thus was the situation; thus the dwindling hope she held for survival.   
  
Outside of her anxiety that she would fry long before she could get into the shade, a dark finger of doubt was slowly beginning to creep up just below her subconscious. How many hours had passed? How many seconds had she spent gazing blearily at the clouded sky, waiting for the Great Fox to soar into view? Although Celestra considered herself extremely self-sufficient, she felt that the mercenaries owed it to her to follow, to pursue their fallen comrade with every intention of rescue.   
  
Still the sky remained empty, for she did not consider a thick blanket of bronze sand to be anything of significance.   
  
Celestra groped at her waist for several moments, then laughed dryly at the continued irony of the situation. Without her prized utility belt, always stocked with her gear of choice, the assassin felt fragile and vulnerable. Not to mention the fact that she was marooned alone on a cursed planet that was outside the realm of navitability. She didn't even have the comfort of the loud echoing footsteps of her combat boots to mirror her irritation, for out here there was nothing but sand the cushion the footfalls.   
  
"I've never been more out of my element than I am right now," she admitted aloud.   
  
Pausing at the crest of yet another sand dune Celestra considered her position. Ahead and slightly to the left--cardinal directions eluded her here--was a veritable mountain of sand that impaired her line of sight form glimpsing beyond, more frightening to her than the endless sea of nothing laid before her feet. But there was nowhere else to go that held any real conviction, so with a sigh she started off again, now in the direction of the area that yielded no immediate answers.   
  
Distance, too, seemed to remain just beyond her grasp, for a trek that she judged to take no more than half an hour lasted twice that before she at last gazed down upon what lay below. To her surprise she found she was looking at the remnants of a Cornerian outpost, one of many such settlements that had been in use during the first Lylat war before the tragic disappearance of all the planets' inhabitants. When she reached it she not only sank into the shadows of a crumbling concrete flat, but noticed an unbroken line of dark green not far off. Although she had only spent a few minutes out of the blistering heat she swiftly set out again, curious as to what could possibly be growing in the middle of an outdoor stove. By now the pain in her mutilated limbs had dulled to a subtle throb, but she suspected that was only because she was wavering between consciousness and incoherency.   
  
Celestra didn't realize what a grave mistake she had made until she turned to look back at the ghost outpost after an hour or so. Somewhere in the time she had left it and now the entire ruin had disappeared, swallowed up by the relentless sand or drawn back within the Keeper of Lost Souls. Cursing her foolishness she stalked onward, for the present again without shelter and pursuing something that may be of no significance whatsoever. The line of healthy green was much closer now, but it was still too distant to make out in great detail. She longed to sit down, to rest her throbbing mess of an ankle, but to give in to those naggings here was to die, so Celestra moved on, blinking sand out of her dull and tired eyes.   
  
It seemed days had passed before the assassin at last stumbled into the midst of a small copse of trees, unheard of on such a dead and desolate planet. The trees bore no fruit but served as a deterrent against the burning light, but there was one factor missing that threw Celestra's comprehension off-balance. There was no water.   
  
Exhaustion soon became an immediate threat, but Celestra fought against it by pacing in the shade. This action sent waves of pain from her ankle up her leg, and the discomfort served its purpose of keeping her from sleep. Gradually she allowed herself to stray from the area she knew and traveled outside the copse to the other side, curious as to what lay beyond.   
  
A single giant, exotic plant lay crumpled there, isolated from the tiny bundle of foliage behind her. Slowly and cautiously Celestra approached it.   
  
The LandMaster was intricately built on the inside; as Falco lowered into the cockpit and the glass hatch closed down over him he could tell that Pepper's technicians and Slippy had spared no expense in its creation. It was rather like sitting in a very long chair, for his legs stuck straight out in front of him before they disappeared beneath the helm. Twin joystick, identical to those that commanded his Arwing, were welded into the helm on either side of the G-Diffuser system. This he flicked on, calling for Fox.   
  
"Everything looks good to me," he informed his commander, testing the mobility of the controls. "Are we set?"   
  
Fox was fastening the restraints as the cockpit of his Arwing closed; beside him, Slippy and Peppy were doing the same. "All set. Remember, guys, that since this is a rescue mission the rules are different. We do not stop to engage in combat unless it stands in the way of us getting to Celestra; if someone falls behind, we do not go back for them; this is the risk we all take. Let's move."   
  
SpiritNova, Nebulafire, and Acid Rain blasted out of the three open hangars of their cruiser, taking to the sky and forming a loose, spread-out V before spiraling down closer to Titania's surface. Great Fox lurched down, nearly skimming the ground, and Falco gunned the engines, shooting out of his hangar and falling the fifty feet to crash into the sand. Then he sped off ahead, generally following the three distant exhaust trails of his colleagues.   
  
"Which way are we heading?" he asked, trundling along behind in the LandMaster.   
  
"I've studied the wreckage of her craft and the conditions of this planet extensively since we left Whitewater," Slippy answered. "East appears to be our best course."   
  
"Why east?" Falco pressed. "Are you guessing?"   
  
The youngest mercenary scoffed at him. "Of course not. East just happens to be with the wind at our backs--I know if I was Celestra down there, I would not be fighting the wind with mortal wounds."   
  
The avian nodded his assent. "Smart answer." Without further communication he boosted the engines to maximum an toggled the LandMaster east, eyes wide and praying for some sign that Celestra was clinging to life.   
  
Assuming the situation couldn't worsen any more even if she did something to help it along, Celestra limped a few steps closer to the crumpled plant. Stretching one arm out slowly toward it she placed a trembling hand upon its stalk, stroking it gently and wondering how it could possibly grow in a place where the sun always shone and there was no water supply. The plant skin was smooth to the touch and fleshy, much like human skin, another oddity. Something brushed against her injured ankle; with a wince she glanced down at it.   
  
The plant was winding one thin, whiplike vine about her ankle, snaking aggressively up the leg to grasp at her. Celestra cried out from the fresh wave of pain that assaulted her at its touch, then its grip tightened and the thing yanked her to collapse face-up in the sand. She stared in shock and horror as it rose, towering over her to a monstrous height of fifty feet, all wickedly sharp leaves and writhing tentacles and four enormous red eyes. It opened wide its mouth, dripping toxic-smelling saliva and exposing two-foot-long teeth as it hissed menacingly at her in untamed ferocity.   
  
Then it surrounded her with numerous more tentacles and hoisted her, thrashing, to its open mouth.   
  
"Hold it!"   
  
Fox glanced back over his left shoulder to Slippy; quite suddenly the toad stopped his craft and was hovering motionless behind his companions. Falco, at last getting used to the controls and versatility of the tank, stopped easily and asked, "What's up, Slip?"   
  
Slippy ws now squinting through the curtains of sand the the southeast, looking frantically for something, it seemed, before glancing back down at his G-Diffuser screen. A grid map popped up on the other mercenaries' screens, detailing a few greenish blips on radar. "Look at this. These are the first non-desert-based apparitions I've seen since we arrived."   
  
"Plants?" Falco speculated aloud.   
  
"It would appear so," Peppy agreed.   
  
"Wait a second," Fox interrupted, frowning heavily at the map he was perusing. "Does it seem weird to anybody else that plants could possibly be growing on Titania, a desert planet?"   
  
The youngest merceneary pondered that, then shook his head slowly. "Not if these aren't natural plants, it's not. Don't you guys remember hearing about the disappearance of that weapons stockpile all those years ago? It's not out of our realm of options that those weapons intoxicated some of the last dying vegetation here and mutated them into other life-forms. I assume that's what these 'plants' really are."   
  
An awkward silence followed this unsettling news.   
  
"That's not very comforting," Falco announced, and he boosted the LandMasters' thrusters to maximum, following the map with concern etched into his face.   
  
Celestra hung, petrified, in the creatures' vines as it drew her closer to its gaping mouth. The arid wind blew sand and the disgusting things' stench up her nose, and she gagged before she could repress it; with a snarl it dove for her, and she lashed out and kicked a pair of swordlike teeth brutally from its jaws.   
  
The vines tightened about her midsection without mercy; something in her lower back snapped, Celestra screamed, and blood trickled out the corners of her mouth. With a cry something like a bird of prey the plant slammed her face-first into the sand, snuffing out her ability to draw breath.   
  
"Did you hear that?" Peppy asked quickly, glancing about in every direction.   
  
Falco, still barreling on ahead, was also suddenly at the alert. "It sounded like some kind of a bird."   
  
"Next you're going to tell me it's defying natural avian physiology somehow and is living in a desert with some inhuman means of survival," Slippy sighed in exasperation. "You guys often forget where we are. We're close."   
  
"To what?"   
  
Fox, far ahead of his comrades, cleared the unnatural copse of trees and scanned the ground beneath him. As quickly and quietly as possible he downshifted and settled into a hover, breath caught and eyes wide. "Nobody move!"   
  
As one the other mercenaries stopped, squinting through the cover of trees, straining to see beyond the obscuring leaves.   
  
"What's the deal?" Falco whispered, daring to trundle forward a bit more. Then a breeze kicked up, brushing the leaves aside carelessly, and he saw her. She was crushed face-down in the sand, tattered and broken like some frail old creature, and above her towered a ravenous plant mutation. Its vines encircled the helpless thing beneath it; its eyes glittered menacingly at the prospect of a fresh kill.   
  
With a cry like some tormented animal, Falco opened fire.   
  
Celestra was oblivious to all the events up to this point until the plant shrieked and the pressure it was exerting on her body lessened a great deal. Desperate now for oxygen and fighting against an overwhelming pain in her back she raised her head slowly, lungs drinking in air in relief. Through clouded and weary eyes she watched a volley of yellow beams pummel the monsters' stalk, scorching its knifelike leaves.   
  
"Peppy, what the hell are you doing?!"   
  
"Keep it busy!!"   
  
"It'll throttle you!"   
  
Shuffling through the sand Peppy knelt at the woman's side, running one hand through her hair in reassurance. She realized dimly that he must have landed, and that the others were attacking the mutation with reckless abandon. The older hare lifted her in his arms, cradling her head possessively to his chest, and she lolled her head back to gaze imperceptibly at him. His dark eyes fell upon hers, sickened worry dominating his face, and the Macbethian passed out from the pain.   
  
"MOVE IT, PEPPY!!" Falco shrieked, dodging the frantically whipping vines. "We don't have time for this!"   
  
As quickly as Celestra's weight would allow the hare made for Nebulafire, carefully laying the assassin out comfortably upon the excess cargo behind his pilot seat. Fastening the restrains with shaking hands Peppy took off back the way they had come, all the while screaming for Slippy to summon ROB to the helm of the cruiser. Fox and Slippy blazed past him, in pursuit of Great Fox, Falco covering the rear as the plant struggling to regain its bearings and attack.   
  
A shudder coursed through the craft and Peppy's defensive shields weakened; behind him, the mutated organism was wrapping its powerful tentacles about the wings, refusing to be shaken. Peppy cursed rather more explicitly that any of the mercenaries had ever heard him and boosted the thrusters to maximum, but the actions were futile as all he did was further anger the plant. Still bringing up the rear Falco expertly targeted the individual vines and incinerated them with laser fire; Nebulafire broke free from its imprisonment and took to the sky, now far from the plant's reach. Far ahead the Great Fox was hovering low over the sand, preparing to receive the successful mercenaries, but far behind Falco held fast and whipped about, warming his lasers with a sadistic smirk playing across his face as the plant lumbered toward him.   
  
"It's just you and me now," he muttered darkly as he began his assault, and even though his teammates cried for him to return at once he refused to follow until the mutation was little more than smoldering ash and the occasional burning leaf.   
  
In the full day of recovery that followed Captain Anilora rarely left Celestra's bedside, and as he was the highest ranking officer in the whole Katinan fleet the medical officers could hardly force him to leave. Two degrees of exhaustion befell Celestra's remaining close friends; Fox, Peppy, and Slippy fell victim to the first and fell asleep shortly after docking upon Whitewater. The second wouldn't allow Bill and Falco to sleep if their lives had depended upon it, so they sat just outside the critical care unit, neither speaking, reduced to inanimate zombies for all the worrying and exhaustion.   
  
At last two-fifteen the following afternoon rolled around and Anilora stepped out into the waiting room, easily appearing as tired as Bill and Falco but far less worried as he beckoned them inside. Celestra was laying inert in a hospital bed, covered generously with sterile white sheets and breathing steadily.   
  
"Be silent," the Katinan captain murmured to them. "She's only just fallen asleep."   
  
The deep scratch across her cheek had scabbed over and was shining with freshly applied antibacterial lotion. Her left ankle and foot had been securely wrapped, but her arm was suspended at an angle with her prone body, skin flapped open as a pair of cyborgs worked the shattered bits of bone back into their rightful places and welded them together with surgical laser. A thick metal ring was clamped over her lower stomach; every so often it sent electrical pulses through her body. Falco frowned at it.   
  
"What's it doing?"   
  
"Re-aligning several shifted vertebrae," Anilora calmly explained. "It's a newly developed medical process that utilizes the impulses into a shifting beam, designed to maneuver certain bones back into their correct positions in a much less painful manner." He noticed Bill gazing sadly at an IV tube coming out of her opposite arm and said, "Fluid restoration; she was badly dehydrated. All of her wounds will heal, I have been assured."   
  
"How long until we attack the weapons outpost?" Bill muttered to Anilora, crossing his arms and watching as the cyborgs literally pieced the assassin's wrist back together.   
  
"No more than four days; General Pepper has cleared Katinan airspace and makes for Bolse Defense Outpost," Anilora whispered back, checking the frequency of the electrical pulses and the x-ray monitor showing the vertebrae gradually sliding back into place in the assassin's lower back. "If he hopes to succeed in destroying the satellite it is imperitive that the primary weapons station be eradicated and the Forever Train derailed."   
  
"'Forever Train'?" Falco echoed.   
  
"The heart and soul of Celestra's home planet," Bill responded mechanically, wincing slightly as the first cyborg welded a shard of bone back into the joint. "She'll want to handle that herself, Gilraen."   
  
Anilora ran a hand through his blonde-brown hair, dim light accentuating the spare flecks of silver within the strands. "I had assumed as much. Doubtless she will concentrate on infiltrating the train in hopes of steering it into the unsuspecting bae; a crash will most likely cripple the outpost beyond continued operation."   
  
"Will she be ready in four days?" Falco pondered aloud.   
  
The Katinan assassin looked to the captain; the pair shared a little chuckle that transcended their exhaustion. "The real question is, can we stop her if she's not?"   
  
The avian joined in the soft laughter, feeling safe here among friends, and the three only stopped when Celestra gave a slight groand at the sound. Bill leaned over her and placed a feather-light kiss on her brow, waving to the others with a yawn as he departed for his living quarters. Anilora did the same, hand lingering upon hers for a few seconds before making for the door, and he paused and looked back at Falco. "Be there for her."   
  
Falco glanced up in surprise. "Sorry . . . what?"   
  
Anilora offered a small, knowing smile. "I ask only that you be there for her now, as something that I cannot be. She will need your love and support more than ever now. Can she depend upon you in these dark days? Celestra is poised at the pinnacle of her troubling past, and will need your hand above all others to help her through it."   
  
The avian gazed down at the female assassin's relaxed face, then looked up at the captain again and nodded. "Of course. I'll be there."   
  
Anilora's smile widened, reflecting his approval, and he slipped out into the waiting room. Falco sat in a chair in the corner of the room, watching vigilantly as the cyborgs repaired Celestra's wrist until sleep at last claimed him. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: The Forever Train

Chapter Sixteen: "The Forever Train"   
  
In the end the entire Katinan fleet wasn't enough to keep Celestra Marquette in bed longer than another day; forty-eight hours after her return from Titania the assassin was up and about again, but not without minor changes. Her left ankle was taped up, and although she carried herself stoically her more perceptive friends could detect the slightest of limps in her stride; her right arm was wrapped from the palm of her hand to the crook of her elbow, and her lower back and abdomen were also taped to further support the newly-healed vertebrae. No one was surprised when Bill cracked open her recovered lockbox and presented her with a utility belt identical to her previous one; Celestra could be seen wearing it everywhere, as though expecting to go into battle at any time.   
  
She would grow noticeably downcast whenever anyone mentioned space flight, though, for now her Arwing and her father's legacy were no more than spare parts upon the surface of Lylat's second planet. Captain Anilora whispered once to Bill that he was well on his way to rectifying this.   
  
The next day Bill came to Celestra early in the morning with news that a small envoy had docked upon Whitewater and were asking to see her. The group was comprised of a select few of Fortuna's most skilled technicians, sent from the Fortunan-Aquan alliance moving from Zoness and toward the outermost Macbethian moon, Sakyo. Arriving in a few large adjoining hangars the female assassin was confronted with an exceptionally pleasant surprise--Anilora chatting cordially with a trio of snow-white arctic foxes and standing in front of the newest make of Fortunan Arwing--the X-Eternity Libra.   
  
While the typical Cornerian Arwing tended to be W-shaped for aerodynamic performance and Katinan Arwings centered around a triangle model built solely for impeccable speed, the reclusive Fortunans constructed their single-man spacecraft in a narrow V-shape with a focus on versatility and unmatchable agility. The X-Eternity Libra was a mere two-thirds the size of her father's old Arwing, but what it lacked in size and power it made up threefold in speed and maneuverability. It was half moonlit-silver and half alluring dark turquoise, a trio of lightspeed engines equipped to its rear and a pair of adamantite lasers mounted to each back corner of the V-shaped body. The prototype of this particular craft had been released for testing only three weeks previous, and in a short period indeed it proved more agile than all of its predecessors and rivaled the Katinan makes for sheer speed. The craft currently gleaming magnificently before Celestra was, at the moment, the only one of its kids in the whole of the Lylat System.   
  
Anilora paused his end of the conversation and idly glanced her way; an inescapably handsome grin came across his face as comprehension dawned in her eyes. Bill laughed and pushed her lightly in the captain's direction.   
  
"Allow me to introduce Erik and William Nioxin," Anilora began as she reached them, indicating each in turn. "And Sensenic Morray, the mastermind behind the X-Eternity Libra's success. They were kind enough to take a short side-trip on their way to Sakyo and deliver this Arwing to you."   
  
Celestra took a tentative step forward, eyes wide as she perused the craft in wonder, and she murmured, "You didn't . . . "   
  
"When Captain Anilora contacted us two days ago and announced that Rage of Macbeth had been downed on Titania, we could not just accept the news with deaf ears," Morray explained sympathetically, a beautifully melodious ring to his Fortunan dialect. "We obliged by offering the Libra to him; he insisted that it was far too great a gift, but we give it in gratitude for your continued efforts to keep our galaxy safe."   
  
The assassin jovially shook hands with the Nioxins and Morray, speechless with pleasure, then wrapped her arms tightly about Anilora's waist and buried her smiling face in his chest. Grinning still, the captain returned the embrace.   
  
"She's yours," he informed her, leading her around the flawless spacecraft with an arm draped over her shoulders. "Every aspect of its performance has been tested numerous times by trained professionals; I have been assured that it flies and fights brilliantly."   
  
Celestra ran one slender hand admiringly along the ship's left flank, eyes glittering with ecstacy. "I can't believe you did this, Gilraen. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"   
  
"All the more amazing it will be with Celestra Marquette at its helm," Anilora answered sincerely, smile turning slightly to the embarrassed side.   
  
Celestra kissed him on the cheek.   
  
A council was called in late afternoon on the next day, bringing Celestra, Anilora, Bill, the four mercenaries, and the highest-ranking Katinan officers before General Pepper's face on a G-Diffuser screen. After the initial disbelief the Libra had brought with its arrival Celestra's overall demeanor had taken a drastic turn for depression and reserved fear--Macbeth now loomed, a specter of destiny, out every window. When they had all taken their seats (Anilora at the head of the table again), Pepper set to pacing back and forth across their line of sight.   
  
"We hang on the edge of tomorrow," Pepper began, never ceasing his fervent pacing as he addressed them. "A tomorrow that surely holds the siege of places under strong control of our common enemy. This day I have learned of movement of a vast force of Venomians; nearly one thousand deploy for Area 6 Defense Station, infinitely the more difficult of two roads leading to Lylat's first planet."   
  
Anilora leaned back in his chair, a grave expression on his face; Celestra heaved a great, pained sigh, and Bill covered his face with one hand.   
  
"What exactly does that mean?" Fox pressed lightly. "Once we clear Macbeth, Zoness, and Titania, I'm a foreigner."   
  
The captain gave a slight nod to a cyborg hovering quietly in one corner; at the signal it glided slowly to another viewing screen and activated an extensive map of Area 6. Bill rose, clearing his throat as he did. "Y'see, other than the surface of Venom itself, Area 6 is the busiest enemy site in a handful of such places. Andross sends the majority of his frontal squads our way via a route through Area 6 and Sector Z Combat Zone; all of the imported goods and weapons Macbeth sends to Venom must first pass through an elaborate security systems screening, and many other things happen in this way.   
  
"For Venom to be successfully conquered Area 6 must be dismantled before we press in around Andross. If it and the satellite within Bolse Defense Outpost are taken out, we greatly improve our chances of entrapping Andross in his own domain.   
  
"However, we have a problem with numbers. Even without this reinforcement group the Station is very well-protected and likely prepared for any attack from our end. We now estimate fifteen hundred defenders, and the number may very well intensify before we get there."   
  
"Clearly a threat best left for Corneria and the Fortunan-Aquan alliance," Pepper told them dismissively. "Let's move on."   
  
Celestra had been pacing nervously since the meeting had begun; she passed behind Anilora's chair and bumped it slightly on her way. The captain recognized the brief interaction to be a cue they had briefly rehearsed earlier in the day, and now it was time to act out the plot they had created together. "Begging your pardon," Anilora interrupted smoothly. "I disagree."   
  
Pepper ceased his pacing and cast a wrathful, impatient glare upon the Katinan captain; the four mercenaries, seated at various places about the room, cast him glances that quite plainly asked what he was thinking. Bill was leaning against the wall, half in shadow beside a large rectangular window, so none of the others noticed the smirk upon his face. Anilora ignored the mercenaries' gawking faces, content merely with a calm expression that cleverly masked the intricate plans he, Celestra, and Bill had laid out. Seeing no further comment coming from the human Pepper snapped, "Explain yourself."   
  
"Certainly." Anilora nodded for Bill to sit and he stood himself, studying the leather backing of his chair for several moments before continuing. "Right now you are making several decisions that will, in the end, play right into Andross's hands."   
  
The general's face reddened vividly and everyone at the table leaned back as one, awaiting the impending explosion. Anilora's heartbeat quickened, knowing he was crossing a fine line with his only real superior, but dismissed any further apprehensions in the face of punishment to follow the plan.   
  
"You will forgive me for drawing my own conclusions, but you have worked out the finer points of the split in forces?"   
  
Falco and Fox exchanged a questioning glance at this; Peppy piped right up and asked, "'Split in forces'?"   
  
"Of course," Anilora agreed cordially. "Two paths lead to Venom's surface; we hardly have time to shuffle from one place to the other and hope to retain the element of surprise."   
  
"Thus a sundering is soon to be in order," Pepper explained, still surveying Anilora with intense disapproval. "The alliance goes with me; an envoy from Zoness joins the Katinans."   
  
Anilora tapped one finger against his chin, sifting carefully through his interweaving plots. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Celestra trying to get his attention; his eyes flashed to her, and as quickly and inconspicuously as possible she blew a puff of hot breath upon the window and wrote 'Frost' in the steam. "Look to the future with me, General, and you will see one small factor that will play a larger role and become lethal to you if you insist on passing through Area 6."   
  
Pepper was silent, brooding; Celestra and Bill took the opportunity to wink at one another for their brilliance before turning and gazing in separate directions. Anilora cleared his throat and gently prompted, "Reivin Frost."   
  
Pepper blinked. "The assassin? I know all about him."   
  
"Do you? Then you already knew that where the fighting is greatest is where he will be?" Celestra mocked, crossing her arms and leaning against the southern wall. "The mercenaries can't handle him in the air, and if given a fraction of an opportunity he will obliterate your entire fleet by himself. I know that sounds crazy, but--"   
  
"Now see here!" Pepper shrieked, eyes on fire with rage; the mercenaries and the other Katinan officers cowered in fear, and although this had been forseen to the three conspirators Celestra, Bill, and Anilora also grew slightly anxious. "Marquette, I've given you a free reign, always. You may be under my employment but I've often allowed you to make your own decisions. But no more! I refuse to allow you to cause mass chaos within the ranks when we are so near to accomplishing our goal! You will either submit to my wishes and fight beside me for the gain of all Lylat, or our contract has reached its end. What say you?!"   
  
Celestra glanced out the window, heart racing. This was the rehearsed bit that would be the most difficult to execute, simply because it was something she didn't wish to do at all. The next stage had been entirely Bill's idea, and after hearing it Anilora had backed him enthusiastically, but the very idea set off warning bells in the assassin's mind. Anilora watched her internal struggle with a sinking sensation deep in his stomach, certain that she would back out in the crucial stage and leave him and Bill hanging; Bill watched carefully, masking the doubts in his eyes. Then Celestra looked up, resignation sparkling within the depths of her icy-blue eyes, and said, "Do what you will."   
  
Pepper sighed, shaking his head at her in dismay. "You always had too much individualism for this operation, Marquette; it constantly placed us in jeopardy. I regret having to do this, but I will not risk mutiny in this stage of the war--I'm letting you go."   
  
'Just as planned,' Anilora thought, mentally breathing a sigh of relief as he allowed a feigned look of shock to cross his face.   
  
'Took the bait, stupid fool!' Bill thought excitedly, then he erupted in a wonderful act of protest. "Ya . . . ya can't! Think about what you're sayin'!"   
  
Celestra lifted one slender hand to quiet her two conspirators and the mercenaries, who truly were acting in hostility at Pepper's decision. "We each have made our choices. And may I say that choices mold the chooser in this war."   
  
"We're moving on," the general growled maliciously, and the room reluctantly returned to a tense state of obedience. "Gilraen, you seem to have some particular design laid out for the split; in God's name, speak it."   
  
"With pleasure. I have little doubt that Reivin Frost, ever unpredictable, will serve as Andross's wild-card at the end of all things, as Celestra has already speculated for you; similarly I feel that the moves he makes will remain one step ahead of yours." The Cornerian general swelled to the ominous point of bursting, so Anilora hurried on. "Do not see it as a doubting mind against your decisions or your abilities--see it instead as an intuitive mind striving to see all ends of the situation. There are few in this galaxy that could ever hope to match Frost in any manner; leave Area 6 to those who have combated against him in the past."   
  
Pepper seemed to calm a bit at Anilora's continued impassive demeanor, going so far as to ask, "Of whom do you speak?"   
  
"Why, myself and Bill, of course."   
  
Falco couldn't stand the injustice of Pepper's decisions any longer; inconspicuously he leaned over to Fox and murmured, "Why did we all just sit here and twiddle our thumbs while Celestra got canned?"   
  
"Anilora's got a plan," the vulpine dared to whisper back, eyes never leaving the exchange. "It's obvious in the way he talks; he's got Celestra and Bill in on it too, they're both more reserved than they should be at a time like this. Keep quiet and see how it plays out."   
  
"So you're asking me," Pepper mused slowly, mulling over the details in his mind, "to pursue your original course into Bolse while you take up mind in Area 6?"   
  
Violet eyes still reflecting nothing incriminating to his situation, the Katinan captain merely nodded. Celestra and Bill tried not to look too impressed with how well their accomplice was handling the plan.   
  
"Preposterous," Pepper scoffed, waving the notion aside and setting to his pacing again. "You will be so sorely outnumbered that you will hand them an important victory that we cannot afford."   
  
"It is tact and not strength that will decide the victor of this battle, Aronius," Anilora corrected quietly.   
  
A disbelieving hush hovered about the room; no one addressed the general of the Cornerian army in such an impassive and informal manner! Pepper seemed on the verge of rudely reminding the captain of this when Anilora finished, "Trust my judgment, General, as you once did. We are still allies, are we not? Do not forget what that means."   
  
Pepper blinked stupidly a few times, mouth gaping slightly as he and Anilora engaged in a bit of a staring contest. After many long, tense moments the former looked away in shame. "Indeed; I have not forgotten. I . . . will go to Bolse."   
  
"Excellent," Anilora replied cheerfully, clapping his hands together once in compliance and thus lifting the mystified stupor from the room. "Whether we win or lose at Macbeth today I will make for the pass within Sector Z Combat Zone, afterward to strike at the Station. Celestra, I will leave you to deal with Frost when the time comes--"   
  
"Excuse me?" Pepper asked skeptically. "I have made it quite clear that Celestra is no longer involved in these affairs."   
  
Now the brilliant eyes flashed, unable to contain their owner's excitement; across the room Celestra and Bill visually shared an ecstatic grin of victory, and suddenly all became clear to Pepper and he felt outmatched indeed. "That isn't entirely accurate, I'm afraid," Anilora began again. "You assured us all that she is no longer under your orders or accepting pay, but said nothing concerning her further involvement."   
  
"I assume you're making a point?" the general quipped in annoyance.   
  
"Of course." Anilora inhaled sharply and turned his gaze upon Celestra, who surveyed him intently and nodded her approval. "You see, I can think of no better person to handle the assassin than another assassin--"   
  
"I forbid it," Pepper interrupted in vain.   
  
"--namely, this assassin--"   
  
"Out of the question!"   
  
"--who will now answer to my orders and do specifically as I bid," Anilora finished, undaunted. "Celestra Marquette is a Katinan assassin now, and you can rest assured that I will not relinquish her uses or, more importantly, her support, over such trivial matters as you have."   
  
"There's the fine print we forgot to mention, General," Celestra smiled sweetly.   
  
Pepper puffed up indignantly like a bullfrog. "I will--"   
  
"Make your threats, General," Anilora warned, and everyone in the room was staring at him now as though he had committed some blasphemous act (save Celestra and Bill). "There is nothing you can say that I do not have a counter for."   
  
Falco looked from the resolute Katinan captain, to the smug Macbethian assassin, and finally to the amused Katinan assassin and sighed. Never before had he seen a trio of people with such limitless faith in each other.   
  
"More fine print, Gen'ral," Bill quipped, now smiling broadly.   
  
"I suppose I'll just leave you in charge of the siege of Macbeth, then, since you seem so keen on depriving me of power!" Pepper shrieked, and the screen abruptly blackened. Celestra and Bill burst into fits of hysteric laughter, sharing an enthusiastic high-five; Anilora slumped back in his chair, exhausted from the verbal battle he had only just won, and the mercenaries all stared at one another, perfectly speechless.   
  
"Nicely played, Gilraen," Celestra congratulated with a chuckle, and with that she left the room.   
  
"Listen to me now, all of you," Anilora bade the remaining group, a measure of apprehension returning to his voice. "Pepper's attitude, though not unexpected and certainly not without provocation, changes everything. We must work hard now to make Macbeth ours, a task that largely falls upon Celestra. Bill?"   
  
The male assassin abandoned his grin and snapped to attention. "Yes, Cap'n?"   
  
"Give the order for the fleet to prepare for battle. Let it be known that we depart to strike Macbeth within three hours."   
  
"Gotcha," Bill affirmed, and he swept out after Celestra. Anilora turned to Slippy and Peppy.   
  
"I'm counting on the pair of you to see that every Arwing we possess is in top working order. I beg you, do not fail me."   
  
Slippy rose, shooting the captain a thumbs-up; Peppy saluted, and the pair departed for the technicians bay with the head of that department, Jered Nasmun. Anilora walked around the table once, eyeing his four primary lieutenants, before his gaze settled upon Fox. "I hesitate to give you orders, as you are still in Pepper's control and not mine . . . "   
  
Fox waved a hand in dismissal and got to his feet. "We as a group trust your judgment; order away."   
  
"I appreciate your support." The captain pointed to his lieutenants, summoning them to his side, and beckoned for Fox to join him. "I need the five of you to go now and lay out your offensive plans for the approaching battle. The Venomians will defend it well, but we aren't worried about taking it from them."   
  
"Why not?" the mercenary leader asked.   
  
"Because the success of this mission lies with Celestra and Falco." Anilora bade them to exit and showed a shadow of a smile when the avian flinched and looked up with surprise. "You see, taking Andross's most important means of weapon and good supply is far too risky, chiefly because he will use any means necessary to recover it. So, quite the opposite of making it ours, we will destroy it."   
  
Falco cocked an eyebrow curiously at the captain, then jumped again when he realized that he and Anilora were alone in the room, left to discuss what would undoubtedly be the most emotional mission they had ever endured with Celestra by far. "But . . . how much could we benefit by usurping it? That's gotta be the site of his biggest weapons stockpile!"   
  
"Yes, I'm aware, and that's primarily why we're disposing of it. What do you think would become of us if we were attacking Venom and reinforcements arrived, only to destroy us with weapons that were, at one time, in our possession? I refused to let the general head this advance simply because he was blind to the possibility. It could destroy us. He will come around if we succeed today, and these feuds will come to an end.   
  
"But on to your task, the greatest and most dangerous of them all. I have a small two-man cruiser in the docking bay set aside specifically for your usage; Falco, I would like for you to pilot it when we have the coordinates set on the Forever Train."   
  
Falco stared. "Me? Why?"   
  
Anilora offered a reassuring smile. "I trust in your flying skills. Celestra's task is something along the lines of suicidal, and she will need for you to be close by when it is near completion . . . "   
  
The Katinan cruiser Dark Horse veered away from its large fleet, spiraling down through the atmosphere in the direction of Macbeth's most populated city, Damiya. Falco had no difficulties whatsoever maneuvering the craft; Katinan ships had always been more to his liking.   
  
Celestra stared back at the hovering mass of ships, wishing that Anilora and Bill were not so far away at this moment. No one could help her with the task today; although she harbored no doubts that the men behind her would easily take the supply depot, the success of the mission depended upon the success of the female assassin.   
  
Damiya, the City of Silver Tracks, was by far the most important city to the conductors of the Forever Train. No fewer than twelve sets of train tracks passed through the town in complex places, bound for other, smaller towns across Macbeth. Celestra vividly remembered engaging her childhood friends in their daily games on the outskirts of Damiya after she failed each day to touch the steam engine; she could recall the scent of the exhaust, the sound it made squealing down the tracks as it made for the supply depot--   
  
Celestra looked away from the window, eyes settling instead upon the avian expertly handling the controls.   
  
"You okay?" he asked her half-mindedly, checking the progress of the train as it chugged speedily along in their direction.   
  
The assassin made to say 'yes', but all that came out was a little pained sigh.   
  
Falco tried not to react to the feeling of helplessness he felt at the frightened sound. "Better get your belt; it'll be under us pretty soon."   
  
Setting the cruiser on autopilot Falco rose, fumbling with an emergency bungee cord as Celestra strapped the utility belt about her waist. She was donning a pair of black leather gloves with the fabric covering the fingers cut out when Falco began equipping a bungee vest to the assassin's upper torso, latching the cord to a metal ring sewn to the back of the vest and ensuring its stability. Celestra nervously tightened her ponytail; Falco wished he could set her mind at ease.   
  
"Ready?"   
  
Celestra nodded, straightening the fastenings. "Don't follow too close; they'll get suspicious."   
  
Falco gripped her shoulders tightly, attempting in vain to massage out the tense knots of muscle he came in contact with. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"   
  
"Yeah; yeah, I'm sure."   
  
Off in the distance a shrill whistle rent the air, the symbol of doom for a broken and tormented seven-year-old, the sleepless nights and endless days of the assassin. Falco skittered back to the helm, ready to follow, assessing the train's speed and locking it into the ships' database. Celestra tugged again at the bungee cord, then latched it to the handle of the exit hatch. The cruiser lurched as it took off in pursuit and the assassin threw the hatch open, bracing against the whipping wind and glancing down.   
  
All color left her face. There, chugging along beneath the underside of Dark Horse, was Macbeth's heart and soul, the Forever Train.   
  
'Hey, Celest! Did you touch it?'   
  
Celestra's eyes widened, glimpsing the past, watching a completely different person rising from the ground to join her friends.   
  
'Nah. But one of these days . . . I'll ride the Forever Train home!'   
  
"That day is today," Celestra promised, and she spread her arms wide and jumped.   
  
For a few frozen seconds she descended toward the gleaming silver steam engine, and a million ways in which this stage of the mission could go wrong flashed through her head. But then her cold, merciless eyes narrowed and she stretched her arms out toward the titanium guardrail at the rear of the caboose. Her hands slapped against the bar, retaining wonderful girp thanks to the leather gloves; her newly-healed wrist seared with pain as her arms absorbed her weight; the bandages strained, but with a grunt of effort Celestra hauled herself over the rail to stand upright. Above in the cockpit of the small Katinan cruiser Falco flashed an ecstatic smile and a thumbs-up; the assassin wrestled out of the bungee vest and unsheathed her switchblades.   
  
"I finally touched you," Celestra muttered to the train, and unlocking the door with Anilora's magical key she slipped soundlessly inside. The door eased shut behind the assassin, and Falco veered away with a leaden heart to join his mercenary leader and the Katinan fleet.   
  
"Rash, Marquette; too rash."   
  
Leon Powalski snickered to himself as he watched the female assassin bungee jump from the cruiser to the caboose; he was reclining comfortably in the conductors' chair at the controls in the locomotive, treated to the action by a G-Diffuser screen on the wall across from him. The real conductor, a burly old baboon with black, mottled fur and unnaturally bulbous lips, continued to mutter to himself his supreme displeasure of having a vicious mercenary in charge of his train. The chameleon cackled his amusement when Celestra disappeared into the rear car, then clicked a button, bringing up an irritable-looking Reivin Frost.   
  
"Despite all of my efforts she is aboard the train," Leon informed the raven calmly. "She will work her way up until she has assumed control."   
  
"Regrettably I do not have my Lord's permission to pay Celestra a visit," Reivin snapped, eyes clearly reflecting his vindictive mood. "Therefore I must leave this important task up to you, Leon--kill her if you must, but she must not get the train."   
  
Leon coiled his tail lazily and slouched lower in his chair. "Consider it done. How long before the Cornerians close in about the weapons outpost?"   
  
"They have already deployed, but they lack their full estimated numbers," the male assassin responded, seemingly confused by the situation. "I don't know precisely what Aronius Pepper is playing at, but Andross expects the general to gain control of the supply depot." Now Reivin grinned, a malevolent glint in his cold green eyes. "It doesn't matter if we lose it; we will only reclaim it and attack them from behind later. Frost, out."   
  
Stretching his arms the chameleon rose, rubbing out a crick in his neck as he turned to the conductor. "Tell me, good sir: is that escape hatch--" Here he pointed nonchalantly at the ceiling, "--accessible from the car behind this one?"   
  
"Of course it is," the old baboon snapped, crossing his arms defensively.   
  
"Well, then I ought to get on the roof. If there is a way to get here from there, Celestra Marquette will find it." Leon whisked out two wicked knives, then paused and glanced back. "The game has changed this day, for we have taken the homeland of the greatest rival assassin in all of Lylat. Much unexpected becomes reality when the game becomes personal."   
  
"They've got the train heading toward the next city," Celestra reported into the wristwatch holographic communicator she always wore. "I need an estimate of how much time I've got to get in control before we pass the supply depot."   
  
Slippy, whose Arwing was tailing Bill's as the Katinan fleet penetrated Macbethian airspace, typed a few commands upon his computer console. "In twelve minutes or so the train will have passed the final set of tracks that lead to it from where you are; you're really going to have to move."   
  
Slinking soundlessly to the other end of her current car Celestra inserted the key and snuck into the next car, peering all about with her switchblades at the ready. "I can make it by then. What's your position?"   
  
"Anilora's flagship is leading the other cruisers into an attack formation; as soon as Falco gets here he and Fox and Bill will lead the first squadron in head-on. Peppy and I are waiting with reinforcements and expect to see a pretty rowdy fight."   
  
"Pity I'll be missing it." The assassin's keen ears sensed footsteps moving toward her car, and in one fluid motion she had clicked off the communication device and flung herself effortlessly beneath one of the benches in the rear of the car. Ahead the compartment slid open; a pair of grey boots started cautiously down the aisle. Apparently the train staff was aware of her presence.   
  
Carefully Celestra fumbled with one of the butterfly knives in her combat boot, sliding one switchblade delicately between her teeth; with an almost casual flick of her wrist she sent the knife spinning through the air. It whizzed across the aisle and landed with a dull 'thunk' in the arm of one seat. Curious and clearly on-edge, the grey boots turned toward the disturbance.   
  
Rising, enchanted boots responding to her urge for silence, the assassin clamped one hand down over the soldiers' mouth and deftly slit his throat with a single swift movement. The man died instantly, painlessly; wasting no time, she dropped him into the seat and wiped her red-stained blade on his shirt.   
  
Then she cursed herself. She had wasted twenty seconds on a useless kill.   
  
Dark Horse drifted into the head position of the first squadron, leading Fox, Bill, and two hundred and fifty Katinan Arwings down toward the supply depot. A massive dome-shaped building nearly as big as the Venomian mothership that had attacked Nexxus months previous, the site for mass weapon and good production was truly an impressive and intimidating structure. As the frontal attack force descende a tirade of air raid sirens shrieked in warning; almost immediately Venomians poured out of doors and windows, stumbling to their spacecraft.   
  
"Come in, Cap'n!" Bill announced, veering right to busy himself with disposing of the enemy spacecraft. "We have been engaged. Request permission to return fire, copy?"   
  
Captain Anilora was at the side of the pilot of Whitewater, watching his fleet progress in small chunks toward their target. "Permission granted, but proceed with caution. We want them to think we attack with the intention of taking it from them."   
  
"Copy that." The male assassin swept low toward the ground, devestating the stray enemy ships. "Everybody got that? Attack, but not at full force."   
  
"Should we be expecting our friends the mercenaries anytime soon?" Fox asked, diving lazily after Bill. "If so, you may want to get Slippy and Peppy up here."   
  
"That won't be necessary," Anilora confirmed, crossing her arms and indicating where Whitewater would best fit in the battle. "Intelligence reports tell us that Reivin Frost is incapacitated; I do not expect Star Wolf to engage us without the assassin."   
  
At the movement of the captain's flagship the fleet split in half, encompassing the depot in a pair of semi-circles until they formed a ring about it. By this time Venomians were taking to the sky like infuriated bees, diving at their attackers with reckless abandon. Great masses of them lifted from the ground until the Katinans were largely overmatched in numbers.   
  
But not in talent. Bill clearly led the way as he proceeded to shoot the unmanned craft as opposed to the spiraling enemy ships that filled the air, limiting the amount of fighters to only as many ships as were still intact. Many Venomian pilots milled angrily about below, shouting strings of curses at the male assassin as he sped by. Chuckling to himself Bill waved down at them, enjoying the successful mockery.   
  
"Not bad, Grey," Fox congratulated, veering after his friend and similarly targeting stray empty craft. "This is almost boring."   
  
"No kidding," Bill agreed, allowing himself to laugh. "It's the first time in weeks I've seen any action; I can't wait 'til we get to the big fights!"   
  
"I'm with you on that," Falco conferred, turning a somersault and targeting his quarry easily. "I wish I Celestra; she gets all the fun missions."   
  
Anilora easily heard this statement over the G-Diffuser system and nearly trembled with rage and the avian's lack of sympathy or understanding. Keeping control was a specialty of his, though, so the captain said only, "I sincerely hope you do not."   
  
"Slippy, come back? I'm two compartments away from the train's head of operations. How's the fight?"   
  
The youngest mercenary stifled a yawn as he heard Celestra's voice; the battle was under control and there was little more for him to do until the Macbethian assassin claimed the train. "Simple and uneventful. We've got everything well in hand."   
  
Celestra was studying her next jump from the front of one car to the back of the next, clinging to the rail as the wind ravaged her ebony hair. Her newly-healed arm and wrist were constantly sending prickles of pain through her body from the strain of supporting her weight through jumps, and often she poked at the bandages in sheer frustration. "Excellent. I'll be well within the time limit, I think--Frost hasn't shown his face and very few Venomians were in the cars."   
  
"Did you take care of the ones you came across?"   
  
The assassin took a moment to wipe blood from her switchblades. "Of course I did." Slipping the weapons back into her belt Celestra leapt to the next compartment, hoisting herself up with a soft groan as her wrist seared again in protest. Noticing that the last car preceding the locomotive was without door, she mounted a ladder and began to ascend to the top. "Make sure Falco is ready; in another few minutes I'll be--"   
  
Celestra froze as her boots hit the roof. There, standing between her and the main train operation, was Leon Powalski, arms crossed low over his waist, fingers gently brushing the handles of his matching knives.   
  
"I didn't copy the rest of that, Celest, what?" Slippy pressed worriedly.   
  
"Change in plans," Celestra murmured nervously, whipping out her switchblades and eyeing her crafty adversary coldly. "I may be just a tad bit late; I've got a slight problem to deal with first."   
  
"What's going on? What problem?"   
  
"Nevermind that. Just tell Falco to start on his way." With that the assassin clicked the communicator off; Leon nodded his approval.   
  
"Marquette." The chameleon took a few steps forward, eyes never leaving hers. "I was thoroughly impressed with your beautiful display of acrobatics earlier."   
  
"Powalski." Celestra likewise started toward him, boots clacking at an intimidating crescendo. "Much obliged. I suppose there's no point in asking you to step aside?"   
  
A malicious smirk lit the mercenary's face, not unlike the one Reivin always wore. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. Obviously I can't let you just waltz up to the controls and do as you will with this train."   
  
"Good," Celestra said honestly, readying herself for the fight. "I had expected nothing less from you."   
  
Leon dropped into a defensive stance, cackling wickedly as he brought his blades to bear. "I'm delighted you think so, but come! Let us pursue this foolishness to its final stupidity."   
  
Acid Rain swooped fearlessly into the fray, weaving flawlessly in and out of feverish battle until Slippy spotted Dark Horse and made a beeline for it. At the same time he shouted into the G-Diffuser, "We've got a problem. I think we underestimated Star Wolf; one of them is keeping Celestra from gaining control of the train."   
  
Anilora sighed and bowed his head in exasperation. "They pursue at every turn . . . what are we to do? She has very little time left before the train passes the depot! If this mission fails . . . "   
  
"It won't fail," Falco growled through gritted teeth, and with a look of determination plastered upon his face he fired the small cruisers' engines, tracing the tracks backward in the direction of the Forever Train. "Not if I can help it."   
  
Many things weighed on Celestra's weary mind and heart as she engaged Leon Powalski in close combat. Time was of the essence now more than ever, and it seemed nigh impossible that she could defeat the able mercenary and claim the train in five minutes or less. She could feel the need of every Katinan resting dependently upon her slender shoulders as she and Leon danced nimbly about one another, fighting for balance on the roof of the swiftly-moving steam engine, but it wasn't just the next mission in her job of her next payoff. This time it was an emotional struggle, a fierce intertwining of the girl-child and the assassin as they fought against one another for control over the situation. This indecision served to confused Leon profoundly; at times when he was clearly in control she seemed petrified beyond all rational thought, much as a small child would, but at other times her eyes were deep as the abyss and devoid of all life or emotion. It was in these latter scenarios that the evil mercenary was unable to sublimate thrills of horror, for surely if she could harness the assassin she would have little difficulty defeating him.   
  
'But she is still not whole' Leon reminded himself with a sadistic smile, coming at her with a combination of low thrusts and high slashes. 'Divided and indecisive. Fool! The child can only spell your doom, for she never desired war.'   
  
All of these thoughts pressed in around Celestra as she futilely struck at her enemy, until at last she tripped and sprawled upon her back, head dangling dangerously over the side of the compartment. Leon knelt over her, taking great pleasure in the immeasurable fear in her eyes. "You're never going to save this planet, Celestra," he assured her maliciously, moving one knife in for the kill. "Just like you couldn't save your parents."   
  
Quite suddenly the emotional tension caused Celestra's mind to split in two; time seemed to stop, and then something strange happened. Thoughts and ideals flowed from two separate people within her subconscious; a haze cleared, and vague, shadowy forms of the child Celestra and the assassin Celestra stood resolutely facing each other. The former was quite short, no taller than four feet and adorably a bit chubby; the latter was all of five foot seven with womanly curves and a slim stature. Eyes of an identical hue stared through one another, judging and appraising.   
  
"Leave me," the assassin ordered, finality in her tone, and she turned her back with a deep frown.   
  
"I just want it to be over!" the child's voice rang out, sorrow apparent within it. "This is my home. We didn't do anything to them; just make it stop!"   
  
The assassin chuckled wryly at this and turned back, gazing at the little girl whining in front of her with obvious amusement. "You just don't understand, little one," she explained, crossing her arms. "It will never stop; not until either good or evil wins out. That's how the wretched world works."   
  
"But why? Why did it have to be me? Why this planet? Why my parents?" The child sat down heavily, sobbing; great pearly tears streamed down her plump cheeks until at last the assassin felt a slight pang of sympathy at the sight.   
  
"Because it's fate," she said simply, stepping over to the child's side. "Someone had to do it. Maybe it's not what you wanted, but just look! Revenge is drawing nearer. Very soon you will have the opportunity to pay back those responsible for ruining your life."   
  
The child looked up, anger reflecting through her watery eyes, and asked, "My life? Or yours?"   
  
The assassin paused, taken aback. Whose life was she talking about? Chuckling again she sat down beside her smaller counterpart, sighing. "It's difficult for me to accept the fact that our lives are one."   
  
"I just want to go home," the child admitted, bottom lip quivering slightly. "Please just let me go home."   
  
She found herself smiling sincerely, holding out her arms and letting the child sob upon her bosom, stroking the sad little girl's hair and cooing reassuringly until she slowly quietly. They sat together for awhile, clinging dependently to one another, until they each found some measure of peace.   
  
"Soon," the assassin promised. "I'll take you home soon."   
  
The child looked up at her admiringly, tears still shimmering in her youthful eyes, but all despair had flown from her face now. "You promise?"   
  
"I promise. But I have to take care of this first." The assassin's visage hardened, remembering her ultimate task. "It has to be done."   
  
"I understand." Then she rose, childlike grace and vitality warming the assassin's heart, and melted back into the hazy fog.   
  
Then it was over; Celestra's eyes flew open just in time to deflect one of Leon's wicked blades. Surprise came across his face when the weapon flew from his fingertips at the force of the strike, and with a feral growl the assassin kicked out, catching her adversary in the stomach and launching him across the cab. For several tense seconds Leon scrabbled about the edge in a desperate attempt to find a handhold; unsuccessful, he carreened over the other side, lost far behind the swiftly moving steam engine.   
  
Celestra struggled to her feet and sprinted to the other side, making for the locomotive in a mad rush. The real train conductor was snoring loudly when she dropped noiselessly to the floor from a small overhead hatch. Unholstering one plasma laser and typing wildly at the helm keyboard she discerned that only thirty seconds remained before she passed the last fork in the tracks that would lead to the supply depot. Typing one-handedly was rather difficult, but she managed to plot the new course in the end and scrabbled back up through the roof opening, sliding to the edge flat on her stomach and taking aim at the swiftly approaching track-change lever stuck crudely in the ground just off to the left side.   
  
Falco located the train from high above and veered toward it, still piloting the small Katinan cruiser. "This is it, Celest--you can't miss!"   
  
Captain Anilora was watching it all on his G-Diffuser, high above the battle for the supply depot, his hands clenched on the chair in front of him; Bill and the mercenaries looked on with the breath caught in their lungs. Squinting one eyes closed the assassin steadied her hand and fired. A brilliant flash of blue-green ensued, slicing through the air at incredible speed, and struck the lever head-on, switching the track in another direction at the fork. Only a few moments later the steam engine followed the curve around on its new trajectory, and moving quickly Celestra leapt down the hatch again.   
  
Now the conductor was on his feet, shaken awake on the abnormal turn and attempting frantically to put on the brakes. Laser still in hand Celestra fired once, burning a neat little hole through the back of his head. When he had fallen dead in a heap she fired at the helm madly; sparks flew from the controls, and when she was certain they were completely disabled she again made her way to the outside roof.   
  
The train was speeding non-stop toward the supply depot, which was swarming with Venomians and Katinans. As she approached Celestra could faintly pick out Bill's and Fox's Arwings, and far to one side Captain Anilora's flagship. Wind whipped through her hair and forced her to squint her eyes, but she did not take her stare from the sight for a moment.   
  
Dark Horse matched the Forever Train's speed; Falco worked hard to maneuver it as close to her as possible. The side hatch opened, and at the last moment Celestra leaped for it, crashing to the floor inside. Scrambling up she raced to the cockpit, plopping down in the seat beside Falco as the scene of her greatest achievement unfolded.   
  
As the train hammered at full-speed along its inevitable crash-course the Katinans fell back, running away from the depot. The Venomians on the ground continued their jeering, thinking they had won the day, until they realized that their beloved train was not slowing down. The steam engine barreled straight on through its hangar and into solid adamantite wall, bowling it over in its chaotic run. A massive explosion rocked Macbeth, and in the air all the Katinans gasped in disbelief; even as they looked on great curtains of smoke poured out the dome-shaped building, obscuring the view for several seconds until a second explosion ensued, spouting great chunks of metal into the air. Jubilant cries shook the skies as the destruction became complete, and with a great exhale of fire and a final creak of defeat the supply depot collapsed into the dirt.   
  
Falco punched the air with one fist and cried out in joy for the victory; Celestra turned her head away and allowed a single happy tear to fall from her eyes.   
  
Bill kept poking Falco hard in the arm and demanding to know where they were going, but every time he did so Captain Anilora would turn around and silence the pair of them with a stern glare and a finger pressed firmly to his lips. Fox, Slippy, and Peppy trailed behind speechlessly, clueless as to what was transpiring. Celestra led them across the barren, rocky terrain, something indescribable burning deep in her eyes.   
  
"It's not much further, I promise," she assured them over her shoulder. "And thanks a lot for trusting me enough to follow."   
  
The seven of them had been trekking along the dull Macbeth expanse for nearly an hour now, glancing about curiously for any signs of interest and finding none. Falco desperately wanted to know their destination, and why they were going there at all, and, most importantly to him, why they were walking instead of flying. Captain Anilora alone among them seemed to have at least a slight inkling as to this little journey, for whenever someone asked he said only, "Be patient."   
  
Celestra led them over a low hill and disappeared beyond it; as Falco crested it himself he noticed that she and Anilora had halted and were standing side-by-side facing the hollowed, charred remains of two small buildings, brittle and frail-looking as they sat there, ashen and barely standing. Gradually the others joined them, gazing down at the forlorn setting, until at last Bill asked, "What is this place?"   
  
Celestra lowered her head, momentarily unable to speak, so Anilora heaved a pained sigh and murmured, "Celestra's home."   
  
The male assassin and the Star Fox mercenaries uttered a collective intake of breath, shocked. As Falco further studied the area his keen avian eyes began to piece things together, until at last he could recognize the raised, dried-out wood that resembled a small front porch lining the larger ruin. Stepping around the many piles of rubble he passed Celestra and Anilora, eyes wide and roving, willing his mind to pick out the details. Beyond the wreckage of the house he vaguely made out the roll-up garage that may have, at one time, served as a hangar for some sort of spacecraft. Falco glanced back to the house, pulling forth images of broken windows, collapsed outer walls, and even a caved-in stump of a chimney.   
  
"My God," he whispered, at last seeing the larger picture.   
  
Celestra strode past him, boots silent as they stepped over loose debris. "I haven't been back here for twelve years; not since it happened." Carefully she walked over to the hangar, placing a hand upon it and looking back at them, face emotionless. "When my father returned home from the first war, the Cornerian army had no precedence over the further use of his Arwing, as it was Fortunan-made. He brought it back with him and devoted great deals of his time to its reconstruction; when I was old enough to understand he started teaching me everything he knew. The ship, of course, was The Legacy, which you all once knew as Rage of Macbeth.   
  
"The night of the attack I just happened to be in the hangar when the first shots were fired, and my father told me to fly for Corneria. Don't ask me how I did it, because it was no act of heroism. Somehow I did escape Macbeth as the Venomians devestated it; somehow I lived to tell of it, to pass Andross's rise on to people who could better handle it."   
  
Celestra rummaged about in her flight vest then, producing three small adamantite crosses from a stray pocket. Her comrades followed her back to the front of the demolished house, where she knelt down before the steps and stuck them firmly into the earth. Then she stepped back, accepting Bill's hand and Anilora's arm, and the group stared at the silver shining crosses for a long while in silence.   
  
"So remember with me," she continued at last, finding strength in her friends' presence. "Remember this planet when we depart down the road of shadows into the realm of Andross. For we are not only fighting for the lives of everyone in Lylat--we are fighting to avenge those who were so wrongfully killed all those years ago.   
  
"And those people will have justice."   
  
One-by-one they turned back the way they had come, preparing for the long trek back to the Katinan fleet as they reflected sadly upon Celestra's history. The assassin herself did not turn to follow at first, staring intently now at the shadowy, childlike version of the seven-year-old staring expectantly up at her, eyes shining. They shared a deep gaze in which all other thoughts and feelings were conveyed without words. Then the child spoke at last.   
  
"Can I go home now?"   
  
The assassin knelt down in the ash and reached out, expecting her hand to pass right through the apparition but not faltering when it settled upon a tangible shoulder. "Yes. You can go home now."   
  
A genuine smile lit the child's face and she made for the house, spinning great circles gleefully, arms thrown out, lavender running shoes kicking up little clouds of dust about her dancing feet. Waving to her older counterpart she sprinted up the porch steps and melted through the walls like a ghost.   
  
Celestra Marquette felt as though a large part of her soul had been ripped away, and for this she allowed tears to slip unchecked from her eyes. She could live now, she knew, without any further internal conflicts; her past was at rest, and all now could lay quiet and in peace with the spirited child to protect it. As she turned at last to follow her comrades she saw Anilora standing at the crest of the hill, waiting for her.   
  
"I was just wondering," he asked softly as she joined him. "Why are there three crosses? Two Marquettes died, yes, but the third lives still."   
  
As one the pair glanced back, taking in the wreckage of the house and its three glittering crosses. Celestra let one last tear trail away down her cheek, then she said, "Yes, to the typical outsider, you are correct. But the child who escaped has been dead these twelve long years; we mourn her loss today, for now she is at peace." Together they began on their way again. "The child is gone now; the assassin may again walk away." 


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Split

Chapter Seventeen: "Split"   
  
Two days had passed quickly, in which every able hand aboard Whitewater was put to work preparing the bulk of the Katinan fleet. Bill kept himself particularly busy, trying his utmost to stay on task, but each hour demanded more of his willpower until at last he settled to mulling over things he would do well to shut out. Leon Powalski had been on the train, not Reivin, so naturally Bill figured the crafty evil assassin was up to wicked designs of his own. But what? His main concern was keeping his growing suspicions from Celestra's attention, so late the same night he turned to Captain Anilora, his other trusted confidante.   
  
Pausing with his fist poised to knock at the door to the captain's quarters, Bill heard a muffled voice talking just on the other side. As quietly as possible the male assassin leaned forward and pressed his ear against the surface, listening intently. The voice droned on for several more seconds before it dawned on Bill that he knew the voice well; it belonged to Reivin Frost.   
  
And he was in Bill's beloved captain's room!   
  
Unholstering two laser pistols from his belt the assassin kicked the door open, leaning around the doorframe and seeking a decent shot. Captain Anilora was hunched over his desk, sitting in its accompanying chair with his head in his hands; the G-Diffuser screen was replaying a message from Reivin Frost. As soon as Bill burst in Anilora sat upright and flicked the system off; the Katinan assassin lowered his weapons.   
  
"Cap'n? What's goin' on?"   
  
Anilora looked dreadful. He was standing barefoot beside his rapidly vacated chair in a flight uniform closely akin to Celestra's, but the fabric was wrinkled carelessly and made him look disheveled. His hair was rumpled from constantly running his hands throuhg it; his normally wise, brilliant eyes were dull and bloodshot. By the look of his immaculately made bed he hadn't slept in many days, and it was starting to show in the young man's face. Surveying Bill for a few moments longer he motioned for him to close the door behind him; shakily he sat back into his chair.   
  
Bill tucked his guns away. "What was that on the screen?"   
  
"I would prefer not to trouble you with my affairs, Bill."   
  
"Ya mean ya don't trust me?"   
  
The captain winced, pained by the question. "Of course I trust you." Running a hand over his face and heaving a sigh he booted up his G-Diffuser again. "But I don't wish to be seen this way. The men need to see their captain steadfast and fearless in the days to come, not indecisive and afraid. Not like . . . this."   
  
Approaching the desk Bill placed a reassuring hand upon the captain's shoulder. "It's not a weakness if you've got a good reason, and ya always do."   
  
"I'll let you decide that," Anilora admitted, and then the low, monotonous voice of Reivin Frost began to speak.   
  
"My most sincere greetings, Captain, and may I also extend my congratulations in regards to your ingenius plots to reclaim Macbeth. Yours as a plan even I did not foresee, and for tht you have my utmost respect. But I fear that is where my praise ends, for now I shall opt for a more demanding demeanor.   
  
"Thus far your fleet has met little difficulty in penetrating the outermost rim of Andross's domain, but I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. I have little doubt that you will persuade Aronius to pursue the primary satellite Bolse, because by now you have realized that your strategy is the only hope you have to win out over the defenses about Area 6. I can assure you of those speculations; Corneria has little hope to defeat me. Very few people in this galaxy can match my intellect, and you, dear captain, are one of them.   
  
"But what is my point? Now that I know you could possibly serve as my equal, I have fixed it specifically so that your fleet will clash will three lines of hard defense--led by me, of course. Consider it a gift from my Lord, who also sees the brilliance behind every decision that you make and presumes you to be an admirable adversary. However, most importantly, it is the course that I demand of you in exchange for Celestra's life.   
  
"Obviously you can't see him, but a trusted colleague of mine has by now successfully infiltrated your flagship. You need not be alarmed for your safety or the well-being of anyone else in your fleet; my colleague carries specific orders on these issues. His only task is to keep Celestra in his sights at all times--but he will only harm her on my command, you see? I place little faith in riddles, so let me spell it out plainly for you--an ally very near to Andross's inner circle has recently discovered the depth of your personal feelings concerning our favorite female assassin, and if these claims are true, well, why would I hesitate to use them against you? Fear not, though; all you need to do is return this transmission with your word that you will accept my challenge; upon receiving it I will order my colleague to depart.   
  
"Or you can refuse and put the woman's life at high risk; you see, now that you have crossed over the figurative boundary leading into Venomian territory my Lord fears vengeful Celestra Marquette above all else, as I am sure you know, and for this he must soon be rid of her lest his intricate plans to conquer Lylat be laid to waste. We simply cannot allow her to run about as she wishes any longer, but I am modestly risking my employment for a bit of sport. If you accept my offer and come to Area 6, I will graciously let her survive for a bit longer. Deny me, though, and her fate will be beyond even me--her life now lies with Lord Andross, and he shows no mercy, not even for sport.   
  
"So answer quickly, Captain, or allow an assassin to watch you beloved from the shadows. Reivin Frost, over and out."   
  
The modest G-Diffuser screen darkened then, leaving the two Katinans in semi-blackness. Perfectly stunned, Bill glanced down at his close friend.   
  
"How could they possibly know?" Bill asked breathlessly, sitting heavily on the floor at Anilora's feet.   
  
Anilora hunched over, bringing his face closer to Bill's and lowering his voice for fear they were being kept under close surveillance. "I haven't the slightest idea, I'm afraid, but it would seem that for all my constant struggles to mask my personal emotions throughout the war someone has discovered the truth." His gaze left Bill's, settling instead upon the carpet.   
  
"Ya mean--" Bill swallowed hard and began again. "Ya mean that after four years' worth of barely seein' each other you're still--in love with her?"   
  
The captain looked back up, violet eyes glimmering strangely at those words. For a few seconds he seemed removed from the present as he remembered events past, namely the period of time four years previous in which he had aspired to become the captain of Katina. From assassination attempts to scandals and the populations' disfavor, he had emerged the victor, and he largely thanked Celestra for winning his battles and for coaching him through the finer points in politics. Now he had achieved all he had ever hoped to achieve, and none of it would have been possible if Celestra hadn't been there, helping to lead him through to this point.   
  
"Yes," Anilora murmured, sitting up straighter and feeling the weight lessen from his body for a split second. "I am." With that said all his cares settled upon him again. "For that my decision is already made. Reivin Frost has extended an order of combat to me; with a mysterious killer haunting Celestra's steps I have no choice but to accept. Only then will her safety be ensured--for a time, at least."   
  
"What if it's a bluff?" Bill countered, not caring for the situation at all. "You'd be walkin' into a trap, and there could be no real threat on this ship!"   
  
"Regardless, I will risk no further harm to someone I deeply care for," the Katinan captain said sternly, and he rose and crossed to the door, extending no further explanation for his behavior. Heaving a frustrated sigh Bill leapt up and followed.   
  
Quietly the pair swept down a few side corridors, at last coming to Celestra's living quarters and entering without announcing themselves. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, clad in grey sweatpants and a matching halter, carefully re-wrapping her injured arm. Slightly alarmed she whirled and snatched up a knife from beneath a pillow; Anilora held up his hands, and she replaced it.   
  
"I would prefer it if you slept in my room tonight," said Anilora seriously.   
  
More than a few snide remarks flashed through Celestra's mind at that statement, but all of them died on her tongue at the expression upon his face. Clearly Captain Anilora was distruaght, nearly frantic with worry; something was very wrong, she understood, and it would be wise for her to obey. Nodding she rose and followed her two friends back to the captain's room, where Bill shut and locked the door.   
  
"What's going on, you two?" Celestra questioned, folding her arms across her chest with a slight frown.   
  
"All will be explained in greater detail tomorrow," Anilora muttered. Bill shot a sidelong glance at his friend and recognized the deep embarrassment hiding behind the concern, and decided not to press the issue any further. "For now just understand that something is amiss upon my ship, and I am taking the necessary steps to rectify any forthcoming . . . accidents." Seemingly unconvinced the female assassin cocked an eyebrow; Anilora, exasperated at her lack of trust, threw up his hands and turned to the window. Celestra shot Bill a questioning, alarmed glance, and in response he only shook his head once and looked away.   
  
An hour later Celestra was sleeping lightly in the Katinan captain's bed, a crease in her brow as she dreamed evil dreams; Bill was snoring in a sleeping bag on the floor, and Anilora was sitting, exhausted, in one corner, watching the pair of them protectively with his proton rifle laid across his lap.   
  
Everyone was in a bustle the following morning, the day that had been unofficially christened 'meeting day'. Many familiar faces were expected to grace Whitewater with their presence, as all of the goodly forces in Lylat were anticipating the critical split in the ranks. Little sleep had come to Captain Anilora the night before, and although he felt slightly more alert and active because of it he inwardly berated himself; the three of them had been sound asleep, completely unguarded for at least two hours. What if Reivin's colleague had chosen that moment to strike?   
  
Celestra didn't know precisely what to make of Bill and Anilora hovering over her at every moment, but she knew better than to question the captain before he explained himself. The man always had probable reason to do many of the things he did, so she kept to her faith that this time was no different.   
  
Captain Anilora was the first to seat himself at the rosewood table in the council room, so he was there to greet General Pepper when the tall, stocky Cornerian leader entered. The latter sized up the former for what seemed like years, frowning down at him judgingly, and at last he extended a hand in acceptance. Relieved, Anilora quickly shook his superiors' hand and even pulled the man into a brief embrace, so great was his elation at avoiding a stern lecture or unemployment. Then the pair sat across from one another, and Pepper smiling disarmingly.   
  
"Very well done," he congratulated softly, and Anilora beamed at the praise. Then Pepper leaned forward, pressing his fingertips together as he surveyed the other man over his hands. "And so you are correct again, Gilraen Anilora. Ever do your claims seem more farfetched, but this day you have proven me to be a delusional old fool. Macbeth is ours, an important step to winning this war--and now I ask your forgiveness."   
  
For a fleeting moment Anilora considered denying any such thing, but that moment was quickly gone from his thoughts. "Of course, General. Often you and I disagree, but perhaps it can only be expected from the leaders of the two largest governments in Lylat. You were only doing what you thought right; as was I."   
  
"I appreciate your understanding." Pepper relaxed in his chair then, gazing out one window at the majestic view of space always at their disposal. "When are the others joining us?"   
  
"I was assured the envoys were running on-schedule," Anilora told him. "And our hired friends will undoubtedly be filtering in soon."   
  
Sure enough, not thirty seconds later the door opened and the four Star Fox mercenaries filed inside. Fox swept into a deep bow; Peppy hit one knee, and Falco and Slippy saluted their employer. When the formalities were through Peppy heartily shook the general's hand while the other took seats. A quarter of an hour after that Katt Monroe and Keil Ford walked in, greeting everyone enthusiastically; Katt took a seat beside Falco, who failed again to conceal a blush. Then came the three arctic foxes Erik and William Nioxin and Sensenic Morray, bringing with them the news that the Fortunan-Aquan alliance was still skirting through Venomian territory unnoticed. Last of all came Bill and Celestra, and Anilora couldn't help but grin at the garment added to her normal black flight attire--a floor-length amber cloak embroidered with the Katinan Flight Academy symbol in rich bronze. General Pepper scowled at the insignia and its bearer, knowing the real reason behind its usage; as the assassin took her seat beside Captain Anilora near the table's head and removed the cloak Anilora nearly laughed aloud, for the emblem was also stitched in silver on the breast and back of her vest.   
  
Bill winked across the table at his captain, who smiled back broadly and took his seat.   
  
"I believe we are all accounted for," Pepper began, glancing at each person in turn before at last sitting down himself. "Now that we have cleared the boundary separating our lands from those belonging to Andross, we have many issues to discuss.   
  
"I consider myself a decent, honest man, one who understands when he has done wrong and does his utmost to regain trust from those he wrongly doubted. Let all of you be aware that I have made amends with Captain Anilora, and that it was he and not I who successfully ushered Macbeth back under our control. He is to be commended for these efforts." Anilora tilted his head in thanks; the others nodded their approval. Pepper had to clear his throat several times before continuing. "However, I recognize also that I have an assassin deserving such an apology. Celestra--" Here the female assassin glanced up, facial expression making it quite clear that she had not been listening prior to hearing her name, "Forgive an old fool for erring in such a critical time. Your re-employment is open, if you are gracious enough to return."   
  
Celestra gave the slightest half-glance to Anilora; the captain, studying his fingernails with great interest, issued the smallest nod in accord. She looked up at her superior, eyes dancing with mischief. "I shall, of course, require a small courtest fee--"   
  
"Name your price," the general insisted.   
  
"--of ten percent and no less," Celestra finished. "And I will continue to fly under the Katinan flag and colors, if you please."   
  
"Done," the general conceded, jotting a few things down on a notepad in front of him. "And speaking of flying, the Fortunan Arspace Division requires a registration name for your Arwing--it's protocol, you know."   
  
"Of course. Bringer of Chaos will do, I think."   
  
Pepper nodded again and wrote this down as well. "Now, to business. We have reached the parting of the ways, and it is time to discuss the finer points of this action. Captain Anilora has pushed most insistently in the direction of Area 6 Defense Station, and today I should like to know precisely why."   
  
Assuming that her old friend was prepared to unveil some grand scheme, Celestra looked over at Anilora. She even performed a double-take when she further studied him: he was blushing a deep crimson and seemed positively sick with worry and embarrassment. Bill nodded grimly at a cyborg at the controls of the G-Diffuser; more than a few people gasped when the smug face of Reivin Frost materialized upon it.   
  
Through the entire message Celestra's eyes never left the Katinan captain's face. He settled for staring resolutely ahead, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the screen, but the red flame of blush never left his neck and cheeks. More than once someone would steal a glance in their direction, but when Celestra fixed a defiant stare upon the offender they would just as quickly look elsewhere. Long had the female assassin suspected Anilora of harboring such feelings, but never had it been brought so bluntly to her attention; in addition, she would have preferred the room be empty save the pair of them, and above all else she hated hearing the revelation spat emotionlessly from her adversary's mouth.   
  
Gradually a loud silence pressed in upon everyone's ears, and Anilora had no choice but to explain. "I cannot refute logic any more than I can deny what I feel. An ultimatum has been thrust in front of me, and I seem left with little rational though regarding refusal. I will not be challenged and humiliated without a fight, so I will accept and depart, and Reivin Frost and all the other followers of Andross who would presume to belittle me be damned. You all know what I am admitting, but may I remind you that we are here on account of war. Let my private affairs remain such, and let me deal with them as I see fit."   
  
Suddenly all the tension eased out of the room; General Pepper shifted in his chair, scooting closer to the table. "What do you require of me?"   
  
Anilora looked up, taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"   
  
"Often I forget that, while I am indeed in charge of this operation, many of my followers understand certain matters far better than I." The general smiled softly at the young captain, placating him without words. "And I am prepared to place trust and faith in you when you lead your fleet after Frost."   
  
"You . . . you're letting me go?" Anilora asked cautiously, surprised at being so understood for a change. "No conditions, no questions asked?"   
  
Pepper held up a finger. "Just the one I have already asked--what do you require of me?"   
  
Considering the question and everything he could possibly need to advance Anilora sat back, weighing his options carefully as he always did. The Katinans were a worthy group, a strong and hardy people who stood almost stubbornly for their beliefs, but the need for more men and even more spacecraft demanded the captain's attention. Wondering just how far the general would go to keep the peace Anilora said, "I shall require the Fortunan-Aquan alliance to follow me, and in return I will give you the Zonessian envoy."   
  
Clearly General Pepper had been expecting everything but that, but he was saved the confusion of answering when quiet Sensenic Morray lightly cleared his throat and rose tentatively to his feet. "In the captain's defense, sir, it would be in our best interest to do so. These many weeks my people have tirelessly prepared for said road, and we will be foreigh and ill at ease in a region we have not studied." Morray reached up to scratch behind one of his snow-white fox ears as he continued. "We Fortunans place great emphasis on studying the enemy, and as one of the top technicians working for Division Four of Arspace upon Fortuna I can wholeheartedly assure you that we will back the captain with unwavering support."   
  
"I concur," said Erik Nioxin, clasping his paws on the table in front of him. "By now I feel I know Area 6 as thoroughly as any Venomian."   
  
Despite the seriousness of the situation the room echoed with more than a few hearty chuckles. Morray sat down again, and Anilora smiled appreciatively at the man in thanks.   
  
"I was counting on the three of you to override the satellite's technological defenses for me," Pepper told the Fortunans. "We're going to need a few bang-up hackers to bring Andross's best satellite down."   
  
"Am I dead weight now, General?" piped up Keil Ford, and Katt slapped him playfully on the arm. "Katt and I work at Arspace too, you know. We can handle your satellite, I promise you that."   
  
Pepper stared at the coyote, at a loss for words regarding this outburst. Bill, who had been fighting laughter since viewing Celestra's chosen attire, lightened the situation by ducking his head under the table as he lost the battle.   
  
"Forgive the eccentricity of my superior, sir," Katt purred, a small smile curling up her lips. "However, he is quite correct--I'm confident in my computer skills, and if Keil here is my higher power at Arspace . . ." She let the statement hang unfinished, but everyone understood what she was insinuating.   
  
"And I suppose there's always Slippy here," Keil joked with a sigh of melancholy. The youngest mercenary shot him a glare and the pair laughed at their wit. "Ain't you the kid that hacked Corneria's Metgiacon to kick off the war? That takes some serious talent, General, not to mention guts and stupidity."   
  
Slippy's grin widened. "Yeah, that was me, Keil. And thanks for the compliment."   
  
"Why, anytime," Keil acknowledged, and with that he sat back comfortably in his chair as though he had never been a part of the conversation.   
  
William Nioxin leaned forward then. "Clearly Keil is confident in the skills of the Zonessians, and my heart tells me you have nothing to fear in this exchange. My kin and I are already suited for the larger battle; is it not wise to give the captain your blessings and be on with things?"   
  
General Pepper had been mulling it all over during Keil and Slippy's banter, and he had his mind made up by the time William had finished addressing him. "It seems beneficial to both sides. Very well, Gilraen; I give you the Fortunan-Aquan alliance. Sensenic, when we have finished here I suggest you lay a few plans with the heads of the Katinan fleet."   
  
"I will," Morray assured the general.   
  
"So am I helpin' to lead the frontal squad when this all goes down, or am I just sort of free-lancin' it?" Bill asked Anilora.   
  
The captain grinned at his close friend across the table. "I have told my colleagues that you will lead the first line, but you often cook up your own tactics after the first five minutes."   
  
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Celestra asked him pointedly.   
  
"I don't believe so," Anilora answered. "Why? What have I forgotten?"   
  
The assassin stared hard at him. Anilora nearly slapped himself in the face.   
  
"Yes, of course! Well, you see, as you are the object of my concern in this particular battle, I strongly insist against your going--"   
  
"You're not leaving me behind, Gilraen!" Celestra snarled in warning.   
  
"--But I also understand the futility in doing so," the Katinan captain finished. "It's not up to me to decide your course from this point forward, but the generals'."   
  
"Ah, well," Pepper sighed, laughing now at Celestra's earlier demands and the reason for stating them. "One of Marquette's requirements to return to my order ws to continue flying under Katinan flag and color; I do believe you're stuck with her, my friend."   
  
Anilora seemed almost angry as he turned to Celestra, who was grinning smugly and inwardly congratulating her genius. "Do you not understand? Your life or death hang in the balance upon my ship; out there, in the face of your nemesis, there is little anyone can do to protect you."   
  
Coldly Celestra said, "Let my private affairs remain such, and let me deal with them as I see fit."   
  
Violet eyes blazing, Anilora slumped back into his chair. Fox at last attempted to speak. "I assume you still require our services, sir?"   
  
"Without a doubt, McCloud. Bolse is heavily guarded; even if Keil, Katt, and Slippy successfully bring down the satellite's internal defenses, Venomian numbers are high in that area. It's going to take every able pilot we can muster to destroy it." Here Pepper turned to Peppy, who had remained quiet throughout the duration of the meeting. "I understand this will be difficult for you, my old friend, but once we clear Venomian airspace we'll by relying heavily on your past experiences to guide us through."   
  
Peppy nodded, face downcast. "That's no problem; I don't think I could forget the way if I wanted to."   
  
"Alright." Pepper rose briskly, stretching. "I expect we will have a few additional meetings before the advance, but this takes care of the finer points. Are there any questions?" Seeing none forthcoming the general nodded; the others vacated their seats and prepared to file out.   
  
Bill and Celestra were the last pair to exit. A pair of guards were standing at either side of the door, but no one paid them much mind as they passed. The soldier on the right of the door waited until the female assassin had turned her back on him, then he silently whisked a dagger out of the folds of his clothing.   
  
Anilora saw the glint just out of the corner of his eye and whirled about, but by the time he did it was too late. The guard had grabbed Celestra from behind, one hand clutching her newly-healed wrist none-too-gently, the other holding the dagger to the flesh of her exposed neck. The captain recognized the soldier as a young private first-class; his name was Seersus. He could only be Reivin Frost's colleague.   
  
"Don't move another muscle, Captain," Seersus bade Anilora calmly, eyes flickering back and forth between each member of the group warily. "And you can put that away, I think." Bill had soundlessly slipped one laser pistol from his belt; slowly and unthreateningly he re-holstered it, red-brown eyes dancing with fury.   
  
"You do realize how dreadfully outnumbered you are," Celestra pointed out sarcastically, not impressed with this would-be assassin in the least.   
  
"Bit mouthy for a hostage, aren't you?" Seersus snarled, bringing the blade closer to her throat. "My superior grows tired of your continued silence, Captain. I shall require an answer now, if you please."   
  
Anilora took one tentative step forward, hands out unthreateningly; Seersus twisted Celestra's wrist brutally in answer. The assassin squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth together in a low growl against the pain, but refused to cry out; Anilora froze, eyes upon the blade hovering millimeters from her throat. "I have made my choice, and was preparing to return Reivin's transmission immediately. Step away, Seersus; your superior will be getting his response shortly."   
  
"Don't give me orders, Captain," the soldier spat, eyes narrowing coldly. "You're in no position to do anything of the sort. You'll speak to him now, and with me present. I heard the bulk of your little meeting just now, and Lord Andross will be greatly interested in hearing it for himself."   
  
Something soft and furry brushed Bill's thigh; without moving his head he glanced down to see Katt's tail working to get his attention. One hand was behind her back, groping slowly, large blue eyes never leaving the current situation as she slipped the hand beneath her vest and produced a small, hidden laser pistol. Seersus was so focused on Anilora that he never noticed the action; Bill pressed his foot down carefully upon Keil's toes and smoothly drew out the gun he had just been forced to put away. The Zonessian nodded and took up the passage, but Bill didn't see how far it got or who was informed as he turned his attention back to the hostilities.   
  
"Of course." Now Anilora did approach, slowly, his hands still held up in a disarming gesture. "If you'll just follow me back into the council room, there's a G-Diffuser inside that we can use."   
  
Seersus nodded and made to follow the Katinan captain, dragging Celestra along in front of him; she snarled in defiance and fought roughly to free herself, but the soldier's grip on her wrist was so strong that he ever-so-slightly increased the pressure upon it until the fragile bone snapped again. In response to the fresh wave of agony the assassin reared her elbow back, catching her captor in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him as she fell away; Anilora took two quick steps in her direction and caught her in his arms. Katt whipped the pistol into plain view and fired once, blasting Seersus in the hand clutching the knife and causing it to fly away. In unison Bill, Keil, Falco, and Erik all brandished various laser guns and fired at the Venomian's chest and forehead, killing him quickly.   
  
"Are you alright?" Anilora pressed, gently tilting Celestra's chin up to inspect her throat for any puncture wounds; thankfully there were none. "I'm sorry, I should have paid more attention--"   
  
"Give it a rest, Gilraen," Celestra interjected, cradling her wrist carefully and glaring down at the dead Venomian. "He's only just broken my wrist again, the miserable--" Here she lashed out and kicked the body fiercely in the side. In the ten seconds the pair had spent in conversation the Fortunans, Keil, Fox, Slippy, and Peppy had already split off down every hall leading to their position; Bill, Katt, and Falco were circling warily, weapons at the ready.   
  
"Falco," called Anilora, summoning the avian to him. "Please take Celestra to the hospital wing and get the cyborgs working on her wrist at once, won't you? I must return Reivin's transmission right away."   
  
"Gotcha," Falco affirmed, leading the assassin away, gun still out for protection, Bill flanking the pair from behind. Captain Anilora watched them go, then turned back to the council room, hating himself more with every step.   
  
Bill was standing guard outside Anilora's door when Celestra wandered up later that evening, her arm wrapped securely again. To set his mind at ease she lifted this arm and waved at him until he rolled his eyes and hugged her. "Ya can't possibly be human. I can't even count your close calls anymore."   
  
She laughed at him, ignoring the slight discomfort in her arm as she returned the embrace. "Is he asleep?" she murmured, indicating the door to Anilora's living quarters.   
  
"Probably not." Bill sighed heavily and released her. "I've kept part o' the watch for a few weeks now--the guy's got too much to think about. He knows we're here, he just can't relax."   
  
Celestra placed her uninjured hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from the door. "Why don't you go and get some rest yourself; I'll stay with him."   
  
The male assassin nodded, respecting her privacy, and disappeared off down the dim hallway. Knocking softly Celestra slipped inside, closing the door slowly and quietly behind her. Anilora was laying flat on his back on the bed, hands folded over his chest; he was still clad in his day clothes and was gazing at the ceiling, wide awake.   
  
Celestra stepped over to his bedside, boots perfectly silent as she unfastened the amber cloak and draped it comfortably over him. The Katinan captain blinked a few times, realized he had company, and turned his head to look at her as she sat on the edge of the mattress. Many long moments of silence passed between the pair, until at last he turned back to study the ceiling again.   
  
"Do you think differently of me?" he asked suddenly, a slight frown creasing his brow.   
  
Carefully Celestra smoothed out the cloak over him, making certain he wasn't cold. "Your time should be spent resting in preparation for the road ahead, not questioning your feelings and motives. Reivin Frost is counting on your doubts to cloud your judgment in the future, you know."   
  
"Doubts that have long been on my mind," Anilora pressed. "This is far from recent."   
  
She sighed, feeling slightly out of place. This was a scenario she had never played through before, not even with her current lover; Falco assumed things were fantastic between the pair of them and tried not to place a great deal of emphasis on the details, so obviously they had never sat down and chatted through the hows and whys of their relationship. This was a quality she deeply admired in Anilora--very rarely did he make any decisions based solely around his needs, preferring instead to hear the opinions of others involved. Seeing the desire for an answer evident in his eyes Celestra said, "I suppose on varying levels, I do."   
  
Anilora looked back to her. "Could you elaborate?"   
  
"I can't pretend that I was blind to the possibility that this would develop, but the manner in which it has continues to frustrate me." Celestra set to fiddling with her zipper vest then. "It always feels like we care about each other in different ways at different times; there are many degrees of passion, and for some reason you and I are never on the same page. We already have the perfect example of that--you feel something for me, but I'm involved with Falco--"   
  
"--Do you wish I were more like him?" Anilora questioned sadly, but the assassin only laughed.   
  
"Of course not." She continued to smooth the cloak over the reclining man, using the repetitive action as a calming influence. "In all my life I could never ask for a more supportive, honorable, honest, or caring man. You're always behind me, no matter how far apart we are; there is no end to your courage, and you have always given me the answers to my more extensive and complicated questions, even if they weren't the answers I was hoping to hear. And I admire all of that about you, and wouldn't change a thing even if given the opportunity."   
  
A ghost of the twenty-three-year-old man's charming smile surfaced at those words. "Thank you."   
  
Celestra returned it briefly, then sighed and said, "I hadn't wished to hear how you feel from the lips of my greatest enemy, nor did I want any of those people present when I did."   
  
"Do you love me?" he asked her suddenly, and although she hid it well Anilora knew he caught her very off-guard.   
  
"I beg your pardon?"   
  
Anilora was looking at her curiously, intensity smoldering in his violet eyes. "Celestra Marquette, I believe you heard me. But out of respect for you I say again--do you love me? For with every beat of my heart and every breath in my lungs I have long devoted myself to you."   
  
The assassin's breath caught in her throat at these words; Anilora sat up and cast the cloak from his body, face mere inches from hers. He was so close she could feel his soft breath against her cheeks, could catch his scent--he smelled faintly of lavender and a million other things she could never in years attempt to place names on. How she cared for him! It was the most difficult thing she had ever done when she ripped her eyes away from his.   
  
"No," she murmured, and a wave of nausea welled up in her stomach at the blatant lie. "I don't. I . . . can't."   
  
Captain Anilora fell hard for Celestra's lie, though, and she found some measure of comfort in that. He didn't understand that they couldn't confess, they couldn't give in, not now when they were so near to achieving the freedom of Lylat. She understood better than anyone that one flaw or imperfection in their plans would spell doom for everyone. She knew above all others that any spark of love they admitted to share between them would eventually destroy them.   
  
Saddened, Anilora glanced away. "Yes. I thought as much."   
  
Heart throbbing in anguish Celestra rose, again covering the Katinan captain with her cloak. "Sleep," she told him firmly, and without another word she slipped out of the room. Again Anilora found no rest, and Celestra sat on the floor outside his bedroom door, head in her hands as she quietly accepted the inner torment to which she had just condemned herself.   
  
Early the next morning every hand upon Whitewater not bound for Area 6 Defense Station gathered their things and relocated to a Cornerian or Zonessian cruiser. In the time she had spent awake the night previous Celestra had come to a few important conclusions. The first was that, while she refused to admit it aloud to anyone, she truly did love Anilora, but while the war was still raging in northern Lylat she had to sublimate those feelings, lest they be used against her. The second was that, at the end of her long and perilous road, she would have to face Reivin Frost alone.   
  
"Reivin didn't threaten my life to lure Gilraen into his path," Celestra quietly explained to Bill as they set about packing up their things to move into rooms nearer to the captain's. "He threatened my life to lure me in."   
  
Bill's eyes showed that he didn't understand. "Why would he do that? It doesn't make any sense."   
  
"Look at it from my point of view, then. Reivin doesn't just want the finale, he wants an uninterrupted one-on-one showdown. If he goes to Gilraen claiming he's got killers haunting my steps and will act through them to get Gilraen to meet him in combat, of course Gilraen will comply out of concern for me. But what Reivin knew that Gilraen didn't was that when I found out, I'd come along."   
  
Bill gaped at her, seeing the simple ironic logic behind Reivin's plot. "Oh, you're right . . . have ya told Gilraen?"   
  
"Of course I haven't!" Celestra snapped back, stopping long enough in folding a pile of strewn clothes to glare at him. "He's got enough to worry about, what with leading the advance into where the fighting will be most intense--he thinks the heat is off me now, and that makes him a bit more comfortable at least. We don't need him any more stressed than he already is."   
  
It was quite plain by the look on Bill's face that he didn't approve of this idea. "Ya know he'd wanna know, Celest--why do ya have to make him worry about you now, of all times?"   
  
The expression on Celestra's face quickly melted into one of fury. "What he doesn't know won't make him worry!" Bill quailed under the tone and sat down submissively; the female assassin sat beside him and threw her arms around him in reassurance. "He's going to be a hero, Bill, and he can't do it with his eyes on me. When the battle comes I'll be behind you guys one hundred percent, but when I get the opportunity to leave, I will. Reivin and I are both growing tired of this game, and now I foresee its end. Before the war is over . . . one of us will die."   
  
Word of mass Venomian movement reached General Pepper only two days later, and he and Captain Anilora quickly decided the time had come to act. The larger opposing threat was rumored to be led from the west face of Venom to Area 6 by Reivin Frost; the smaller came off the east face and filtered like a plague into Bolse, the primary Venomian satellite, fronted by the four mercenaries of Star Wolf. Hearing that Leon Powalski had survived his fall from the Forever Train deeply angered Celestra, and in a fuming rage she demanded Falco finish the job.   
  
"If those four walk away from this war alive, Falco Lombardi, I'll have your head," she warned him, and he found that he believed her.   
  
Everywhere signs of the split could be seen. Word went out to the Katinans and the members of the Fortunan-Aquan alliance that Anilora had named Celestra and Bill as his primary lieutenants for the inevitable battle, and the Nioxin brothers had unanimously be chosen as chief technicians and computer correspondents. The assassins found that they had company of late, another hired killer by the name of Micah who worked as Pepper's chief assassin on the planet Aquas. Unlike the Macbethian and the Katinan, however, Micah seemed possessed of a passion for his work that bordered on violet bloodlust, earning him the nickname "the Leon Powalski for the good guys."   
  
The Star Fox mercenaries settled back into their own cruiser, joined by Keil Ford and, to everyone's dismay, Katt Monroe. A tight friendship had been forged between Keil and Slippy, the designated computer hackers who would bring down Bolse Defense Outpost's superb defense systems; they shared a love for all things technological and were rarely seen outside the technician's bay in the days before Pepper's fleet's departure. The other three mercenaries worked with the spacecraft repairs crew, skirting back and forth from cruiser to cruiser and frantically setting about checking each and every Arwing, transport, and large ship. Falco especially was working with unrivaled fervor, losing sleep as he toiled at the uncountable repairs. As Fox and Peppy watched from afar they quickly discerned that the avian was trying purposely to keep his mind in the present.   
  
Together they could easily guess what it was that Falco was struggling to forget.   
  
The day of the split arrived in one breathless rush after one final war council with the representatives from the five allied planets. This took place upon Whitewater, and afterward a grand congregation swelled in the docking bay to see off the brave Cornerians and Zonessians. An uproar of applause burst out when the Star Fox team entered the hall; the appreciative peoples had even formed an aisle in their ranks, leading to the mercenaries' Arwings. At the end of the parting stood a group of familiar faces: Gilraen Anilora, Bill Grey, Celestra Marquette, Sensenic Morray, Erik and William Nioxin, and Micah, the assassin from Aquas. Fox and Bill fell into a heartfelt farewell hug; Slippy shook hands with the Nioxin brothers as Sensenic Morray slapped him jovially on the shoulder, and Peppy graciously thanked Anilora for all his endless aid and hospitality.   
  
Celestra spent many moments surveying Falco with a practiced eye and knew better than any the source of his inner unease. He had been dreading this farewell since the day Pepper had offhandedly informed them of it. She didn't blame him for a minute--after all, she had been living upon their cruiser for months now and had grown more fond of the avian's company than she would ever be comfortable admitting. They shared a passion between them that none of the others could understand, one of adventure, the fight, the adrenalive rush, but most importantly of one another.   
  
The assassin came forward then and wrapped her arms possessively about his waist, burying her face in his flight jacket and stroking his back in such a way that incited curious whispers from the crowd. Falco blew a sigh and hugged her just as needingly back, balancing his chin on the top of her head and cooing calmingly as he so often did. Then Celestra pulled gently back and stared deep into Falco's eyes.   
  
"Take care of yourself out there," she told him gently. "You know I can't be around to babysit you every moment of every day."   
  
The simple sarcasm within her caring tone pulled a momentary chuckle from the avian, who settled his hands upon Celestra's shoulders firmly. "Yeah, I know, and the same goes for you. I would tell you to be careful out there but there's no sense in that, 'cause I already know you won't be." Celestra stood on tiptoe to kiss Falco tenderly, an assurance that she would at the very least remember his words.   
  
"Don't forget to kill Powalski or I'll never forgive you when this is over," she joked, but her eyes were still edged with sadness.   
  
Falco laughed again, a forced sound now. "And I'll be disappointed if you don't come home with Frost's head in a hat box." They hugged briefly one last time, then Fox's hand clasped Falco's shoulder and pulled him away toward the Arwings.   
  
As MeteoRiot fired its engines Falco glanced sadly down at Celestra one last time, who was leaning against Bill. She raised one hand in a wave, forcing another strong smile that she knew he needed to see; satisfied somewhat, Falco half-heartedly departed with his teammates.   
  
He just had to. 


	19. Chapter Eighteen: The Ambush of Whitewat...

Chapter Eighteen: "The Ambush of Whitewater"   
  
Wolf O'Donnel slowed his quick military stride as Leon hurried to keep up. The chameleon's efforts to conceal a substantial limp to his otherwise smooth and flowing gait proved futile to his mercenary leader, who above all others knew the truth about him. As his accomplice reached his side Wolf nodded to the complex bandaging of Leon's knee and said, "You would do well to hide your continued injury from Lord Andross." Up ahead Pigma sighed impatiently and Andrew shifted from one foot to the next, so they started off again.   
  
As had become his daily custom of late, Leon took a moment to curse Celestra Marquette under his breath. His fall from Macbeth's steam engine had left his right kneecap inscribed with a spiderweb of fractures deeply embedded in the bone, and the bodily imperfection was increasingly difficult for the normally calm and indifferent mercenary to tolerate. Leon was used to being at the top of his physical form, and he considered it the greatest weakness to be seen in the company of his fellow mercenaries, hobbling about like a frail old man. Now the situation was worsening, for they were nearly to Andross's audience hall and quite possibly their deaths. Even as Pigma made to knock at the entrance the double doors eased open; a feeling of dread settled upon the four of them, for they knew their employer and emperor was awaiting their arrival and was far from pleased with their progress.   
  
"We're dead," Pigma whimpered, wringing his pudgy hands together nervously. "The Dark Lord will flay our skin from our bones."   
  
As they stepped within and started cautiously down a black velvet carpet, a shadow stirred to one side and Reivin Frost fell into step beside Wolf. "Be silent, cowardly swine. Consider yourself blessed if Andross himself causes your slow and painful demise."   
  
Wolf quietly chuckled his approval. "What is this about?"   
  
"Your spineless friend seems to have some slight idea," Reivin said coldly, and even in the near-darkness Pigma was filled with fear when the assassin's empty jade eyes cast him a loathing glance. "We have recently fallen out of Andross's favor, a decision brought about from a system of events. You will learn much today, to your misfortune."   
  
The lupine swallowed hard; he didn't like the sound of that at all.   
  
As the five of them advanced the chamber became slightly brighter, until they could make out the carpet's end and the outline of the Tyrant of Lylat sitting rigid and enraged in his throne. Reivin was the only one who had ever been face-to-face with Andross, so when he dipped to on knee and respectfully lowered his head the Star Wolf mercenaries had enough sense to follow suit. Leon grimaced as his injured knee took on his full weight, but outside of the intense discomfort he felt a lump of fear rising in his throat. Reivin Frost showed respect to no one; if he was offering such submission to Andross now, then they were in serious trouble.   
  
Several minutes of silence passed in the dimly lit audience hall, and as the assassin had neither risen to his feet or made to explain the situation Wolf did not dare order his team to do so. They were remotely aware of a pair of glittering, slit-like red eyes surveying their every movement from a few yards away, though, and knew that Andross was letting them stew in their mounting trepidation before he alleviated it. Reivin, in the center of the line, could literally feel the nervous heat rising off Pigma's trembling form to his left; to his right steadfast Wolf O'Donnel was doing well not to look up but keep his single eye fixed humbly on the floor. On the mercenary leader's right Leon's eyes were glazed over indifferently but his jaw muscles were tightly clenched, as though he were constantly gritting his teeth against the pain in his crushed knee. Andrew remained absolutely motionless, knowing well the methods of torture his uncle preferred to use.   
  
Just when Leon was certain his knee could not support him another minute, Andross shifted in his chair and came forward. "I am nearing the end of my patience with all of you. My order, above all others, was that Celestra Marquette die before ever setting foot upon Venom. Now get up and explain yourselves, or suffer weeks of torment before I ease your passing!"   
  
Pigma scuttled to his feet so quickly that he greatly resembled a rat; Reivin, ever the calm and calculating assassin, rose slowly and cleared his throat. "Over the past several months many unforeseen circumstances have impeded my progress to kill Celestra, my Lord. She is very much like me, that much you have seen by now, and the entire procedure is very delicate. I only require a bit more time."   
  
"Already too much time has been given!" An unseen force lifted Reivin from his feet and hurled him backward into the shadows; after many tense moments he returned, frowning heavily now. "You do not seem to understand that Aronius Pepper and Gilraen Anilora stand at my doorstep, preparing to wage open war!" Andross snatched up a nearby glass of wine and drained it all in his fury before glaring down at Leon. "You could easily have killed her on Macbeth--why didn't you?!"   
  
Leon struggled to conceal a wince and barely succeeded. "One moment's hesitation, my Lord, and that was all it took for her to regain the upper hand."   
  
"And how did she do this?" Andross sneered vehemently.   
  
"I can only speculate--" Suddenly the chameleon had been lifted from his feet and similarly thrown aside, crashing into a wall of the chamber; there he slumped for a moment, clutching his knee before struggling back into view. "I believe it was the separation of two battling influences. There were times when it seemed she was more scared of me than anything else in the galaxy, and other times still when she was as indifferent and inpenetrable as I have ever seen her. I stared at Celestra past and Celestra future that day on the train, the innocent child and the merciless assassin, and the latter won out in the end, to my misfortune."   
  
Reivin felt more than one relieved exhale leave the mercenaries beside him, and nearly let one slip himself. After a shaky start Leon had given a successful and intricate explanation of his failure, and that seemed to placate their employer somewhat. Then he turned to Wolf. "I left the assassin Bill Grey to you, knowing that Marquette would do anything, even die, to retreive him. Your orders were to deliver him to me, or kill him if that was not an option."   
  
Wolf didn't even need to open his mouth to anger Andross, for his eye never left the ground, not even when the dictator addressed him. Andross's eyes gleamed with rage and Wolf yelped as he went flying, colliding first with a spindly brazier before hitting the floor and skittering back with a squealing sound. Stars exploded in the lupine's line of vision; nearly a minute had passed before Wolf rejoined his comrades in line. 'That was your first mistake,' Reivin thought to himself. 'Do try no to make another, or it may cost us all.'   
  
"I had every intention of following your orders to the bill, my Lord," Wolf assured, trying with difficulty not to sound as though he were pleading. "I did not expect Anilora to follow Marquette to Fortuna! If we had known we would be outnumbered, I would have sent him to you straightaway!"   
  
"Ah, yes," Andross mused, and his gaze settled intently upon Reivin once more. "For a moment I had forgotten you were not alone."   
  
'I'll kill you, you sell-out,' Reivin thought before he impacted and slid down the wall again. Pigma Dengar could not help but let on quick chuckle pass his snout at the assassin's expense before silencing himself; it was already too late. Andross turned his full attention to the pig.   
  
"Amusing, is it?" With a cry Pigma levitated into the air, squirming to free himself, but Andross's psionic powers were far too great. "You have more faults here than the remaining four put together! Peppy Hare was supposed to die twelve years ago with that wretched James McCloud, and still he lives! If he had died as planned, Star Fox never would have made it to save Marquette after her crash on Titania, because Peppy had been there once before to save your sniveling, worthless backside and he knew the terrain!" The empty wine-glass Andross had set aside came forward and smashed itself over the dangling pig's head; Reivin, Wolf, and Leon all worked hard not to burst into laughter at the sight. "Marquette's death on Titania was meant to succeed, and above all else I blame you for its failure!" With that Andross psychically tossed Pigma away; he struck the double doors with such force that he was rendered unconscious.   
  
"Hear me well!" Andross roared, and the four left standing before him rose struggling into the air. "Star Fox is expecting to clash with Star Wolf just outside our primary satellite, Bolse. This will not happen in the manner they expect! Let Marquette breach the defenses at Area 6 expecting to battle Reivin alone--and let her die alone on Venom's surface when she realizes he has brought the mercenaries along! She cannot withstand all five of you, not without her foolish friends. Let her die outmatched and completely devoid of hope--on your lives, DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME AGAIN!!!" And then he sent them, unconscious Pigma in tow, carreening out the double doors to crumple in the hallway.   
  
With a groan and a great effort Leon raised his head. "If we fail again--"   
  
"--We won't fail again," snapped Reivin, sitting up, eyes livid and blazing. "No more games. Celestra Marquette will die, alone and more afraid than she could ever begin to fathom!"   
  
Truly it pained Sensenic Morray to see Captain Anilora in such a state of unease. Even at twenty-three, such a tender age for someone holding a key position of power, he commanded and received a tremendous amount of respect and trust. A dark cloud of doubt marred his handsome features now; his once-brilliant violet eyes were almost always downcast and sad of late, as though he had recently signed his death warrant. In addition Anilora rarely spoke to anyone these days, and most peculiar of all he seemed to be avoiding Celestra on purpose.   
  
The Fortunan technician would therefore have preferred to leave the captain alone with his private thoughts, but when he entered the briefing room he did so determined to help in any way he could. Morray quietly cleared his throat; the captain started and turned away from the window to face him.   
  
"Hello, Sensenic." The arctic fox dipped into a bow at being addressed, but Anilora snorted dismissively and pulled his colleague up to eye level. "Thank you for returning to quickly."   
  
"My pleasure, Captain." Morray joined the Katinan at the window, brillaint emerald eyes reflecting the magnificent red and orange space fires of Sector Z Combat Zone. Several seconds of silence passed between the pair of them, until at last Morray issued a sigh and said, "Gilraen, forgive me; I know I am overstepping my bounds, but I lose heart to see you grieving so. Do tell me what's the matter."   
  
Anilora smiled briefly, a wordless thank-you that Morray did not miss. These two were not recent acquaintances, and when the Katinan opened his mouth to speak he knew he had not misplaced his trust. "There was never any boundary placed between us. I wish I had realized much sooner than this--I feel I am not prepared to lead my friends, my dearest of kin, to their doom. For that my heart is not my own, and I can no longer see my way ahead."   
  
At last Morray had some idea what ailed the man. "Many have died already, and although we mourn their fate still our road stretches out before us. Already in these few years half of the Fortunan population has been wiped out. Those men, and hundreds of others, died for a cause, not in vain. Even as we speak we have entered Venomian territory; never before have we been so close to success. Not one of them laid down their life out of fear of failure, or imprisonment, or a more gruesome death--they did so, and willingly, because they believed in the freedom of Lylat. They believed in you."   
  
Anilora remained unconvinced. "It gained them nothing. They are dead and still we have not reached our goal."   
  
"That isn't all true, Gilraen. They died to give us this chance, because we are still here and willing to fight back." Morray clamped his hands down on the captain's shoulders, forcing him to face him. "We who remain have not once lost faith in you! Look out there--Celestra, Bill, Erik, William, and I, and every single soldier in this grand fleet, would gladly fight and die beside you, or for you. I myself would die this very instant for your noble cause if I thought it would help you."   
  
"This is what I mean! Don't you see?" Anilora squirmed out of Morray's grasp, a longing in his eyes. I feel I am not that great man you speak of! I feel I am not worthy of your praise, or anyone else's!" A weight of defeat collapsed upon his shoulders then, and the Katinan captain flung himself into a chair, shoulders heaving with sobs. "And I desperately want to be that man, Sensenic. I want more than anything to be the one everyone counts on never to fail."   
  
Sensenic Morray couldn't help but smile at those words, and he sat down in a chair beside Anilora. "You are already that man," he told him honestly. "You have been that man for years."   
  
The light returned to Gilraen Anilora's eyes then; he was on his feet, a confident aura pulsating from his compact form, and he said, "Alert the fleet. We are advancing into Sector Z this very night."   
  
"The Katinans are on the move, and clearly in this direction," snapped Reivin Frost. He was pacing furiously up and down his living quarters as Wolf O'Donnel watched, only half-interested, from a reclining chair. "We should ambush them tonight, in the combat zone. Think of it! Anilora would expect nothing so bold from our end, for if we lose just once more it would make Area 6 easy prey for them." He paused momentarily to glare at the mercenary leader. "Well? What do you think?"   
  
Wolf leaned forward, meticulously adjusting his eyepatch. "How do you know they're on the move? You can't possibly be sure--"   
  
"Seersus bugged Whitewater," the assassin told him dismissively, growling his impatience. "The real reason I sent him there was not to kill Celestra--although I daresay that would have been fabulous--but to implant a homing device upon the Katinan flagship. With it I can monitor their every movement."   
  
"And why did you not inform Andross of that?!" Wolf demanded, subconsciously massaging a sizeable bruise at the base of his skull. "If he had known you did it all for a reason, we wouldn't be in this position!"   
  
"Yes we would, you simpleton. Andross made up his mind to punish us long ago, back when Bill escaped from us on Fortuna. I knew there would be no rectifying the situation--Bill would not drop his guard again--so I merely ignored it and moved on. The tracer will solve all our problems; we know every move Anilora will make the instant he makes it, so there's nothing he can do to stop us this time." Reivin was beginning to look ravenous. "Well?!"   
  
"What now?" Wolf quipped in response.   
  
"My plan, you fool. What do you think of it?"   
  
The mercenary leader knew that to voice his many sarcastic responses was to die, so he relaxed again and said delicately, "It has its benefits and its drawbacks, I suppose."   
  
"Such as?" Reivin snarled back.   
  
"It's quite simple--with all eyes on the Katinan captain you will neglect Celestra Marquette, our true mission objective," came a smooth voice from the doorway, and the pair locked eyes with Leon, who was leaning casually against the doorframe. "If she slips past you it's smooth sailing all the way to Andross's audience hall, and you know what that means for the lot of us."   
  
"Unemployment and gruesome death," Wolf put in.   
  
"You forget what she desires most," Reivin reminded, and a sly and confident smirk replaced his vindictive mood. "The final match. Long before Andross discovers she set foot upon Venom we will have settled our six-year score. And the pair of you will help me."   
  
"Without Star Wolf, Bolse will never hold against General Pepper and those damned Cornerians," Leon reminded.   
  
But Reivin's eyes had glossed over and he was clearly not listening as attentively. "I can just see the horror in her pretty blue eyes when she realizes she's outmatched five to one . . ." The chameleon cleared his throat pointedly, and the assassin blinked rapidly a few times before saying, "Yes, Leon, but if we kill Celestra and hold Area 6, that won't much matter, will it?" He made for the door, pausing only to say, "We're to attack them tonight. It is far too sweet of an opportunity to ignore." Then he marched right past Leon and out the door, starting off down the hall.   
  
Leon heaved a little sigh of melancholy and rubbed at a crick in his neck. "The man is quite out of sorts of late."   
  
Wolf ignored his comrade's callousness, adopting instead a rather Reivin-like glint in his eye. "I've known him for years--he always gets like that when blood will soon be spilt."   
  
A trio of Arwings broke the figurative boundary that marked Sector Z Combat Zone; as they continued on their way a mild solar flare illuminated the surrounding area, clearly emblazoning the names Bringer of Chaos, Fury of Katina, and Scarlet Night. The graceful V-shaped Arwing advanced to the point, silver and turquoise body shimmering mysteriously. "Didn't there use to be a refueling station here?" asked Celestra.   
  
"It was destroyed almost three years ago," Micah explained, piloting his blood-red spacecraft slightly behind and to the left of hers. "Andross ordered his first and second regiments to advance into Aquan territory, but a radical group of Zonessians had set up camp at the refueling station and were waiting to waylay him. Star Wolf's Pigma Dengar secretly infiltrated the place and set a detonation device in the central control room; not long after that it was curtains for everyone on board."   
  
"And how come the debris is still floating about the area?" Bill asked.   
  
"Combat zones are classified as regions centralized about a relatively strong magnetic field," Micah continued, obviously interested. "This structure makes it impossible for loose interspace material to escape."   
  
"Four years of interstellar field history at the Academy?" Celestra guessed.   
  
"Five years, and at the Private Institution for the Katinan Elite," Micah explained.   
  
"P.I.K.E.," Bill acknowledged, using the familiar acronym, and the three assassins shared a laugh.   
  
Meanwhile aboard Whitewater, Captain Anilora and Sensenic Morray were at the helm watching the progression through the combat zone. "Everything still clear up there?" Anilora asked, calmly folding his hands behind his back.   
  
"That'll be an affirmative, Cap'n. Sensors show a visibility of at least ten miles, and there's nothin' in sight," came Bill's voice.   
  
"Excellent," put in Morray. "Straight on through to Area 6, then, and that is where we shall launch our offensive."   
  
For several hours Celestra, Bill, and Micah skirted about the desolate area of dead space, leading the allied fleet on ahead to their next destination. They would fan out at times, taking a wider berth to be certain the flanks were safe; at other times one would circle about the rear, guarding the fleet's blind spots. As Anilora and Morray idly kept watch over the three pilots, Erik and William Nioxin checked the radar often for a longer range of security.   
  
It was perhaps one in the morning--the Katinan captain and the three arctic foxes were sharing mugs of coffee near the helm--when Whitewater shivered under heavy external blows and buckled wildly to the right side. The four lost their footing and tumbled roughly to the floor; mugs went flying, shattering against the walls and spilling their contents. A warning buzzer and a flashing red light went off in the control room and all about the flagshiip; after a moment's confusion Anilora struggled to his feet and rushed to the G-Diffuser screen.   
  
"An ambush!" he cried as the Fortunans leapt to his side. "Hundreds of them! Behind our fleet and moving up fast!"   
  
"It can't be!" exclaimed Erik, checking the radar. Sure enough it was swarming with red specks, each one indicating a Venomian spacecraft. "We were staring at the readouts, and there was nothing near us!"   
  
"They must have created a rift in space," William reasoned, wrestling into his flight gear. "With it they could have easily warped to this location."   
  
Captain Anilora switched to the intercom. "All pilots to Arwings! We are under attack!" That said he turned to Morray, who was anxiously awaiting instructions. "Spread the word, my friend! We must drive them back, and quickly, or there will be no fleet to attack the defense station!" Morray nodded and headed off quickly; the Nioxins wasted no time in sprinting away down the hall in the direction of the docking bay. "Frontal scouts, come in! Andross has launched an attack from behind! Break ranks and double back!"   
  
As one the three assassin's Arwings performed U-turns, reversing their flight direction and putting them in line with the not-so-distant skirmish. Off to the left Micah noticed the concentraion of their enemies was much less dense, and with a quick motion of his hands he followed this path around to the opposite flank, hoping to surprise the assailants from behind.   
  
Celestra watched him go in dismay, seeing the grave mistake. "Micah! Don't!"   
  
Her cries were futile; as if on cue laser fire rained down upon Scarlet Night. The engines imploded and caught fire, and moments later the Aquan assassin's spacecraft burst fully into flames, screaming away like a rogue comet until the Arwing exploded, showing the night with embers. Reivin Frost's sleek black Arwing melted out of the shadows, almost stalking in Celestra and Bill's direction.   
  
"I always despised that one," Reivin admitted smugly, hovering before his two adversaries confidently. "He talked far too much and lacked the skill to back up his words--very much like the two of you."   
  
"Only we're still here, ya moron," Bill pointed out bitterly, warming his lasers.   
  
Reivin's eyes glimmered sarcastically. "Not much longer, I assure you!" he taunted, and all three burst into motion, spinning and diving in flawless corkscrews as they pursued. To a novice it was clear that Celestra and Bill had previously flown in tandem on numerous occassions; they never once came close to colliding or firing on one another and knew where the other was subconsciously at all times. The X-Eternity Libra was nothing short of wondrous when piloted by its Macbethian owner; that proved to be Reivin's first miscalculation, for he knew nothing of this new and better spacecraft prior to launching the ambush. Often he found it difficult to keep up with Celestra's constant dodging and evading, and he was so caught up in catching her that he was an easy target for Bill.   
  
The biggest mistake the heads of the Venomian ambush made concerned the Fortunan-Aquan alliance. Reivin had ordered the attack assuming he would be combating nine hundred Katinans; the mere presence of the alliance served as the saving grace for Captain Anilora's terribly outnumbered forces. Sensenic Morray had insisted in the early days of the war that the five hundred fifty men moving under his command would remain unaccounted for, and he was correct. The fleet was larger than the Venomians had guessed, for the alliance truly had slipped three-quarters of the way through the Lylat System unnoticed!   
  
As the Nioxins ejected from the docking bay and made their way into the fray, they knew that even with the addition of the Fortunans and Aquans they would likely lose the battle. As Morray and Anilora began strapping themselves into their spacecraft they came to learn just how badly when Anilora said, "I have a close estimate of their numbers; we're looking at roughly eighteen hundred."   
  
"I don't care at all for the situation," Morray told the Katinan captain over a private intership channel. "We are badly outnumbered and the element of surprise is with them."   
  
Anilora gritted his teeth together and shot out of his hangar, leading five score of the Fortunans into the center of the enemy fleet and cutting a path to the enormous starships. As they began to at last regain their lost ground he heard Celestra's voice: "Gilraen, do you copy?"   
  
The captain squinted his violet eyes as a bomb detonated far to his right flank. "We've got at least seventy-five enemy cruisers back here; Celestra, where are you?"   
  
"Oh, fantastic!" she responded sarcastically. "Seventy-five cruisers back there, and we've got Micah dead and Reivin Frost at the forefront!"   
  
Anilora opened his mouth to answer her just as some stray Hybrid stealth craft recognized his ship; they fired simultaneously, sending the captain reeling through space in reckless barrel rolls. He cursed, fighting hard to regain control before they eliminated him, but fortunately a few of the Fortunan pilots swept by to rescue him as he righted himself. He tore off in pursuit of a tight-knit group of Destroyers and panicked when his calls for aid heeded no one; then he cursed again when he realized his communications had been knocked off-line.   
  
Further behind, the Nioxins had just succeeded in obliterating their tenth starship together. The heads of the Venomian squadrons were pulling their hair out in their frantic orders for someone to bring down the two Fortunans, but not one enemy craft possessed the ability to keep up with them. These two had created the X-Eternity Libra and every single one of its predecessors; they expertly controlled X-Eternity Scorpios at the moment, and no better technology could be found on the opposing end. In addition to tailing his brother around in pursuit of new cruisers to fire upon, William was already well on his way to uploading Captain Anilora's intership communications.   
  
Strangest of all was quiet and clever Sensenic Morray, who had long since fallen out of the battle and landed his Arwing on the roof of Whitewater. He alone among all his comrades seemed unnaturally calm, typing evenly at the helm and studying a holographic layout of the Venomian attack formation. "It's far too perfect--rehearsed, even," he muttered thoughtfully to himself, sitting back and scratching haphazardly at the white fur behind one ear. While he sorted through the situation he took up the controls and targeted stray Venomian craft, firing at random and downing many. A thought struck him then and he quickly booted up his scanners, inputting the keywords HOMING DEVICES; after several tedious moments in which he stared at the word SEARCHING, a detailed skematic of Whitewater materialized, bearing a single, flashing red dot.   
  
"And that's how they managed it," Morray congratulated himself, straightening up in the cockpit. "Come in, Gilraen! Somehow the Venomians have placed a tracking device upon your primary cruiser, copy!"   
  
"He can't hear you, Doctor Morray!" Erik informed him. "William is working on his communications!"   
  
Morray fired his engines, shooting down all the enemy craft in his path as he made for the Whitewater docking bay. "Very well--I'll handle this myself."   
  
In the grand scheme of things the three allied fleets were being torn to pieces by Reivin's ambush. Celestra and Bill were successfully keeping their primary adversary from causing any damage elsewhere, but the goodly forces were still outnumbered and with every loss they suffered the margin separating the opposing sides only grew. The Nioxins were thus far playing the heroes; with every large cruiser they eliminated they gained followers, until the entire Aquan fleet trailed along behind the two technicians and swarmed over their next designated target like a plague. Things were looking well for the pair of them until ten starships banded together in a diamond formation and relentlessly opened fire. Wails of despair filled the radio frequency; Erik floated up to William, eyeing the destruction with an angry expression upon his face.   
  
"Now, brother?" asked William tensely, eyes never leaving the wreckage.   
  
"Yes, I think so," Erik answered, and they dove into the diamond formation head-on.   
  
Reivin couldn't help but look up in horror when the first of those ten formidable cruisers exploded; two lone Fortunan Arwings were firing enormous quantities of energy at the large ships. The bombs lanced through the darkness of space to pummel the starships' exteriors, and within a minute the Nioxins had vanquished all ten and emerged, unscathed, to seek out new prey.   
  
"Fully-charged electron-based detonators, respectable Mr. Frost!" shouted William, skirting by the trio of quarreling assassins after his brother. "Our ships can hold ten apiece!"   
  
"I'll be sure to carve your name into one of them and reserve it just for you!" Erik added wickedly, and then they were off in pursuit of more targets.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye Reivin spied the Arwing of Sensenic Morray making a beeline for Whitewater, and automatically he seemed to know why. If he didn't stop this upstart from destroying the transmitter, they would be forced to fight the Katinan fleet on even ground. Brilliantly evading a stream of lasers from Bringer of Chaos Reivin charged after Morray, preparing to fire.   
  
It was at that precise moment that Captain Anilora's communications started working again, and he cried, "Sensenic, behind!"   
  
Purely on instinct Morray rolled hard to the left; Reivin made to follow but Anilora dropped seemingly from thin air to stave off the attack and began firing madly. The evil assassin got off one lucky shot that grazed the captain's left wingtip and sent him into uncontrollable somersaults; for a second his way to Morray was clear, but then Celestra and Bill accosted him again, concealing both Morray and Anilora protectively behind them.   
  
"Lot 'o nerve you've got, ya damned traitor, to be openin' fire on our cap'n," Bill hissed dangerously, and the three assassins engaged in combat yet again as Morray landed safely in the docking bay. All the while the larger fight raged within Sector Z Combat Zone, and for the allied triad things were looking grim.   
  
Vaulting out of his Arwing and sprinting off down the main hallway toward living quarters, Sensenic Morray's keen eyes perused a printout of Whitewater's complex interior and the quickest route that would lead him to the homing device. Outside he could hear the ambush reaching new heights of ferocity; every so often enemy fire would hit a weak spot and the ground would shudder beneath his feet. He hurried past numerous cyborgs and ignored every one of them when they asked him if he needed assistance, and finally paused outside a small, secluded broom closet, praying he had found the right place.   
  
Morray threw the door open so hard in his hurry that it rebounded back off the hinges; it was dark enough inside so that he could clearly see a miniscule, flashing red light toward the back of the cupboard. He reached inside and ripped the small square homing device off the wall and tosseed it to the ground before him as he unholstered the only laser pistol he owned and fired at it until all that remained was a twisted scrap of useless metal.   
  
"Undoubtedly Mr. Frost's associate planted that fine contraption here before he was ordered to shadow Celestra's steps," Morray hypothesized, and then he turned back and set off merrily for the docking bay again.   
  
All at once the tracking signal Whitewater was sending out expired, and Reivin Frost knew it was time for him to order the retreat. The Nioxins, recently joined by Captain Anilora, had taken down almost fifty of his starships; Bill was starting to lose his concentration, but Reivin was still no match for Celestra in her excellent new Fortunan Arwing. It didn't matter that they were going to lose some ground--the ambush had been meant to cripple Anilora's forces, and that had already been accomplished. What mattered the most to Reivin at that time was that his fleet would overwhelm the suffering Katinan ranks when they later advanced into Area 6, so he would only defeat them all later.   
  
"Retreat!" Reivin called to his forces. "I repeat--all hands falls back to the rift!"   
  
Celestra and Bill glanced to one another, confused. Why was Reivin calling for his men to retreat when they held the edge? But the evil assassin showed no signs of explaining his irrational decision as the Venomians started to disappear back through the warp, offering only, "Farewell, my admirable adversaries. Live today, but when next we meet I shall seal your fate!" The assassin's two Arwings dove after their nemesis, making with all speed for the rift, but as soon as Reivin melted through it the portal disappeared.   
  
Sensenic Morray and the Nioxin brothers were treated as heroes whe all had docked and evacuated, but the celebration was short-lived. Captain Anilora entered with grave news: their numbers had fallen from fourteen hundred and fifty to an even thousand, where seven hundred and fifty were Katinan, two hundred were Fortunan, and only fifty were Aquan. Every large cruiser and starship in the entire fleet had suffered damage, and the nearest ship repair station already lay behind them on Macbeth.   
  
At eleven o' clock the following afternoon, Captain Anilora informed every soldier that they would continue the advance in two days. 


	20. Chapter Nineteen: The Satellite

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: "The Satellite"  
  
"Excuse me, sir--you have a call."  
  
General Pepper glanced up from Keil Ford's crude sketch of Bolse Defense Outpost, red marker in hand. His personal secretary was standing straight-backed in the doorway, arms stiff at his sides, chest puffed out like a true soldier. Slippy and Keil exchanged a bemused grin before turning their backs to chuckle silently; Fox, lounging comfortably with his feet up on the desk before him, resisted the urge to deflate the informant by poking him in the stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he or any of his team had addressed their employer so formally.  
  
"We've important business to discuss," Pepper said, turning away with a negligent wave. "Get a transmission number and I'll get in touch with them later."  
  
The secretary cleared his throat quietly. "Please, sir--it's Captain Anilora."  
  
The touch of lightheartedness within the room was instantly suffocated away; with a hurried "Excuse me", General Pepper exited the room.  
  
As soon as the Cornerian officer was out of sight Keil and Slippy wheeled their chairs to the helm. "Can you patch us in?" pressed the youngest mercenary.  
  
The coyote plunked a hefty pair of headphones over his ears and began typing. "Don't get your knickers in a bunch, kid, we'll catch up to them."  
  
"Hold up--what are you guys doing?" Fox asked suspiciously.  
  
By now Slippy had also donned enormous audio gear and was interestedly watching Keil's progress. "We're listening in on his conference call."  
  
"You can't do that!" Fox shrieked, jumping to his feet and looking as though he was prepared to intervene. "If they detect you--"  
  
Keil interrupted with a snort that clearly suggested he though Fox was acting ludicrous. "Obviously you've forgotten who it is you're talking to, chum. There isn't a computer whiz south of Macbeth who could top me and Slip here. We've been eavesdropping on all the important stuff since the split six days ago. Besides, I outrank you."  
  
Fox's jaw dropped incredulously. "You--you do not!" he stammered defensively. "I'm the leader of the most renown mercenary squad in all of Lylat!"  
  
"Yeah, that's great, kid. And I'm the number one guy at Arspace Division Three." Keil never lifted his gaze to meet the vulpine's, merely continued typing evenly and studying cryptic encoding. "You rank below General Pepper, Captain Anilora, and the five heads of the five Arspace Divisions. Sorry."  
  
"So relax," Slippy added, offering his commander a set of headphones. Reluctantly Fox clamped them on, and a few seconds later the static cleared and became calm.  
  
They heard Pepper speak first. "Everything alright, Gilraen?"  
  
"I'm afraid not, General. Only a few hours ago we were ambushed within Sector Z by a large force led by Reivin Frost."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"We can only raise speculations as to how they maneuvered to attack us from behind, but thus far our strongest theory is that they created a rift in space; with it they could easily warp to our locate with little difficulty at all." The three eavesdroppers could tell by Anilora's voice alone that he had barely slept in several days. "Also, Sensenic Morray discovered a tracking device upon my personal cruiser that was relaying a constant signal to Venomain correspondents, and he has hypothesized it was planted by Seersus before the assassination attempt on Celestra."  
  
Pepper blew a long sigh of unnerved disbelief. "Unbelievable--the device has been destroyed?"  
  
"Yes, and every ship has been scanned for additional tracers. None exist, so the Venomians will no longer be able to keep tabs on our progress."  
  
"Did the fleet survive the assault?" Pepper asked, sounding anxious.  
  
It was a long while before Anilora could answer. "Four hundred and fifty men are dead or unaccounted for."  
  
Fox gasped and Slippy slapped his hands over his mouth; Keil motioned for them to be quiet as Pepper shrieked, "That's nearly one-third of your fleet!"  
  
"Regardless, the advance will continue in two days' time," Anilora said firmly.  
  
"Gilraen, you're leading one thousand men into a massacre," Pepper insisted gravely. "While I did leave you in charge of that leg of the operation, I must beg you to reconsider your course."  
  
"I know you would have me withdraw, but I just cannot bring myself to order my good, honorable men to surrender and flee," said Anilora sadly. "They have worked hard to earn this chance when we may at last strike directly at Andross, and I will not be the one who takes it away. Perhaps we will be slaughtered, but we will take a good deal of them down with us."  
  
Pepper made to respond but a great deal of static interfeared; Anilora had terminated the transmission.  
  
"Things are getting pretty unstable," Slippy remarked as he and Keil rushed about to hide the audio gear. "Reivin Frost must be getting desperate if he's launching ambushes."  
  
"A sure sign that Andross must be feeling edgy," Keil answered thoughtfully. "Still, Anilora's either really brave or really crazy if he's going to lead one thousand alone into Area 6. General's right--it'll be a massacre."  
  
"Not if we can help it," Slippy put in mischieviously, and Keil returned the expression. Fox found himself wondering just what the pair had in store.

* * *

"So you haven't the slightest clue what they're up to?" Katt asked Fox incredilously, ceasing the constant tapping of her fingernails to fix the mercenary leader with a mildly surprised expression.  
  
"That's right," Fox admitted, pacing thoughtfully about Katt's room and feeling very overwhelmed by the color of lurid pink. "Slippy just laughs when I ask him, and all I could get out of Keil is some vague remark about how I should find someone to replace Slippy's spot in the frontal squad. However, it is plain that the two of them will be off on their own while we fight over the satellite, and that's why I'm here." The vulpine sat down on the edge of the bed beside Katt. "If we're outnumbered against Star Wolf, things could go bad for the whole advance. So I'm asking you to take up Slippy's place in the mercenary squad and fight against Andrew Oikinney, Andross's nephew."  
  
Katt gazed coyly at Fox from beneath long lashes, then let out a low, beguiling laugh. "You're too cute, you know. "I'll give you boys a hand, but--you'll owe me."  
  
It wasn't difficult for Fox to guess how she wanted to be repaid; a knock sounded on the feline's door just then, thankfully, saving the mercenary leader from any lewd scenarios. Pouting slightly Katt answered the door, but her visage changed to one of languid delight when Falco entered. "What's up?"  
  
"Not much." Katt settled back against the pillows, purring contentedly. "Looks like I'm with you from now on."  
  
"I figured that's why Fox was here," Falco confirmed, sprawling out on the rug at the foot of Katt's bed. "By the way, did you guys hear about the Katinans?"  
  
Fox nodded, crossing his arms as he silently recalled the conversation. "Keil and Slippy tapped in; I was there. Can you imagine? Four hundred and fifty of Anilora's guys fell in two hours, and he still wants to head into Area 6!"  
  
"Have they even got a chance?" the avian asked his commander softly.  
  
"That depends on how the Venomians defend the place, I suppose. Anilora thinks they took out maybe two hundred of Frost's ambush, but even then the Katinans will still be outnumbered by, say, six hundred. If Celestra can keep Frost busy, though, and Bill, Erik, and William lead the advance with those new electron detonators, they just may have a chance."  
  
Katt sat up very suddenly, seeming to have only just heard what Fox was saying. "Just a minute--did you say they tapped in?"  
  
The vulpine shrugged. "Yeah--so?"  
  
A frown crossed the female technician's lovely features as she groaned. "Fantastic; I think I know what they're planning."  
  
Falco issued an incomprehensible grunt, his vote for Katt to continue, and she rolled her eyes and said, "Let me put it this way--Keil Ford has been thrown into jail and faced the Zonessian judicial systems on more than one occasion for being caught uploadiong computer viruses into confidential government software. My superior has very little regard for the rules, but when it comes to hacking and scrambling processing technology, you won't find a more brilliant man anywhere in Lylat. Suddenly you guys show up and Keil finds Slippy, the teenage mastermind behind the Metgiacon fiasco all those months ago. And now they spend all their time holed up in each others' rooms, trading technical secrets and eavesdropping on private conversations. Is that suspicious to either of you?"  
  
"You don't think--" Falco trailed off in exasperation.  
  
"--That they're actually stupid enough to attempt an internal siege of the Bolse satellite?!" Fox finished incredilously, his eyes growing wider with each word.  
  
"How in all hell do they expect to pull that one off?" Falco sighed in amazement.  
  
"You don't think it's possible?" Katt accused, round sapphire eyes narrowing dangerously.  
  
"Sweetheart, do you have any idea just how many guys Andross has got guarding the internal mechanism?" Falco jeered, bending over Katt and sticking his face near hers so she didn't miss his skeptical smirk. "Hundreds. We've worked with Slip for years, and even though Metgiacon was a little kamikaze for him I know he's not stupid enough to try something that suicidal."  
  
"Well, let me tell you something, darling," Katt snarled viciously, spitting the last word like an ugly curse. "Keil and I have been in the same Arspace division for almost five years, and trust me--at twenty-nine, he is that suicidal."  
  
Falco eased back from her, seeming nervous and pale. Suddenly the two male mercenaries didn't know what to think.

* * *

"Right," said Keil, turning to face Slippy when the call went out for all pilots to ready to strike the satellite. "Are you clear on what you're supposed to do, kid?"  
  
Slippy turned his baseball cap backwards and snapped a hefty utility belt around his stocky waist. "Totally. Think you can keep up with me?"  
  
The coyote laughed heartily and likewise strapped guns to his person, preferring to velcro his weapons to his upper thighs. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that if I were you; I've been pulling stunts like this for years." He looked up, smile melting from his face as he surveyed the thirteen-year-old. "You know what this could mean, don't you? You know they're all down there."  
  
The youngest mercenary tucked the Aggravator, his tiny but powerful laser pistol, into a pouch on his heavily-laden utility belt and nodded in resolution. "I know Keil. And I'm ready."  
  
"Then let's get going." Keil glanced into the mirror atop his desk, sizing up their reflections in it with anxious eyes. On the whole they looked sleepy, nervous, and very sick to their stomachs, but it was time for action and they were more than prepared to do their part.  
  
Keil Ford decided as he shut the door to his living quarters and started off for the docking bay with Slippy beside him that he had never been more ready to die.

* * *

"Diamond formation," ordered Fox as Falco, Peppy, and Katt caught up with him. "We'll stay in this formation and attack the satellite together until Star Wolf shows up, then it's every mercenary for himself."  
  
Katt took up her position as the west point in the diamond and advanced, Fox in the lead, Falco behind, and Peppy to her right. Behind the mercenaries Vortex Four was leading the rest of the Cornerian starships and cruisers aggressively, keeping the Bolse satellite greedily in their sights; the Zonessian cruisers, further coordinated into play by ROB, were as yet unseen, but the feline had no doubts that Fox and General Pepper had negotiated on a fantastic place for them to fit in. Arwings rushed ahead of them in groups of twenty, already engaging the masses of Venomians steadily seeping out of the enormous satellite.  
  
Bolse rather resembled a narrow skyscraper suspended precariously in deep space, increasingly more ominous with Venom, Lylat's first planet, serving as an eerie backdrop for the battle. The arrival of General Pepper's fleet was anticipated; hundreds of Andross's supporters were entrenched in the near vacinity, covering a defensive posture about the monument, alreading firing off long shots at the advancing force. On Fox's command the mercenaries' formation spread out to cover more ground, putting space between one another and making a more difficult target for their attackers; Keil and Slippy had not yet struck out on their way, and if Star Wold was here, they had yet to present themselves.  
  
"Attack at will and at full force!" General Pepper thundered over the communications device. "We must destroy the satellite to attack Venom!"  
  
"Dive left," Fox suggested, and as one the four mercenaries curved gracefully in a westerly direction, never faltering in their formation. None of them had fired a shot yet, preferring to tail a few scores of Arwing around in a semicircle and search for a vulnerable opening. All at once a stray starship dropped from a hatch and maneuvered away; a thin path appeared between Cornerian and Venomian, and Fox's eyes lit up with recognition.  
  
"Open fire!" shouted the mercenary leader, and the avian, the hare, and the feline narrowed their eyes in concentration and began firing upon the satellite's exterior. A few of the beams glanced off rogue fighters, but most had been expertly shot and scored upon the surface.  
  
"Our lasers didn't cause any damage!" Peppy called. "That thing is exuding massive amounts of shield energy and has no outer weak points. We need to exhaust the shields somehow before we strike again!"  
  
"Good luck with that, by the way," sneered a familiar voice, and Peppy was pummeled by laser energy from behind. Fox called for his team to come about, and the four mercenaries of Star Wolf glided in from separate locations, uniting and perfectly mirroring the spread-out diamond formation. Pigma Dengar had spoken, and was now snickering in a sinister fashion as the eight pilots faced one another.  
  
"Andross must have more patience than I thought," Falco commented to Leon with an edge of superiority to his tone. "Here we are at his most important satellite, and he hasn't killed you guys on account of miserable failure yet."  
  
Wolf growled ferociously, single eye narrowing at the shot to his teams' pride. Star Fox couldn't possibly know abou their recent humiliation at their employers' hands, so they couldn't even begin to fathom the depths to which Falco's jab had enraged them. "You'll want to keep that beak of yours shut tight, Lombardi," the opposing mercenary leader whispered dangerously, hands clutching his craft's joysticks tightly. "You never know just how much trouble it could place you in."  
  
"Who's the girl?" Andrew asked suddenly, noticing Katt's pink Arwing with a pang of disappointment; he had, after all, been expecting to meet with Slippy.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Wolf continued in the same soft and venomous voice. "She's yours."  
  
At a signal from Fox the three Arwings behind him glided into a straight line. "It all stops here, O'Donnel. The feud ends today, no matter what."  
  
"Agreed. Let us commence."

* * *

"That's our cue to get moving, kid," Keil said to Slippy, tightly strapping himself into the cockpit of the Zonessian Arwing ReBoot and scanning to be sure everything was in top working order. "I figured Star Wolf would wait to see if any technicians made a beeline for the satellite; that's why we let you buddies go first. They'll keep Wolf and company busy while we sneak around."  
  
Acid Rain's engines warmed and fired, and the pair of hackers ejected from the Great Fox's last two open hangars. "Good plan," Slippy acknowledged, switching his communications to a private channel so he and his fellow conspirator would not be overheard. "Just one question--how are we to go about getting in?"  
  
A grid map of Bolse Defense Outpost materialized on the youngest mercenary's G-Diffuser screen, detailing a flashing vulnerable section every three stories on the northern side. "These exit hatches alternate between being open and closed to let back-up fighters join the Venomian ranks at regular intervals. I've studied the time frames; they open every ten minutes for one minute at a time before shutting again. While they are closed the shields cover the doors to prevent damage, but they have to shut those particular areas down when the doors open to allow spacecraft to pass through. To avoid suspicion we'll have to circle a few times until the hatches open, but Pepper promised he wouldn't let anybody else attempt infiltration, so with any luck we'll go unnoticed."  
  
Slippy was momentarily taken aback by the drastic change that came over Keil while he described the entire process; for a few minutes he no longer seemed the same person, one not comical and laid-back but intellectual and calculating. He found he admired the older man as Keil led him toward the satellite, weaving constantly to avoid laser fire. "I'm shocked, Keil--it sounds like you've done this a time or two!"  
  
The coyote chuckled to himself. "My motto is, 'The guesswork doesn't start until the fighting does'. I know their setup better than they do."  
  
They started to rotate the long, slender satellite, holding their shots in check as the shields were still in place and waiting for the exit hatches to open. "Have you got the detonators?" Slippy asked.  
  
Keil patted a small burlap sack hanging from his belt and smiled as he thought of its contents, a quintet of Titanian explosives, the best models in the galaxy. "Of course. I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone by failing to cause mass mayhem."  
  
At that moment pinpricks of black appeared amidst the iridescent hue of the encompassing shields; Keil's eyes narrowed, all business again. "Fall out!" he told Slippy, veering down and right to the nearest open spot, turning a narrow corkscrew to avoid shots aimed his way. The mercenary, tailing him closely, had little time to mimic the move but followed quite admirably, shooting down one enemy pilot posing a threat to the Zonessian from the left flank as he did. The way was clear; Keil made a dive for the opening, squinting his eyes to guage the distance remaining, and the pair swept into the hatch.  
  
The chute was dark and so close on all sides that Slippy felt his heart clench in a claustrophobic spasm, ended only when Keil's voice broke the silence. "We're nearing the docking bay, so be on the alert! It's large, so we won't be spotted right away, but I give it no more than half a minute before someone realizes no one in the Venomian fleet owns an Arwing. Land beside me, bring only what you need, and we'll bail for the elevators."  
  
They burst into a brightly-lit, dome-shaped docking bay, landing off to one side to avoid attracting attention. For all their caution they were still sighted almost immediately; a few voices rang out in warning, and shortly after a shrill security bell rang out through the halls of Bolse. Slippy vaulted out of the cockpit, drawing a pair of molten flame laser pistols before he even hit the ground and coming up firing. He spotted Keil fifty feet away, crouched low in the shadow of his Arwing's left wingtip and firing with a devastating freezing pistol. The coyote noticed his comrade's speedy approach and drew out another gun, leveling it to cross just behind Slippy's escape path before pulling the trigger. A thick cloud of green gas filled the air; within it could be heard the faint, raspy sounds of Venomian soldiers coughing and gagging.  
  
"Go!" Keil shouted, now firing at the floor to his left and freezing the oncoming Venomians in their tracks. "Run for the elevators!"  
  
Slippy skittered to avoid the icy sheen covering the tile floor and sprinted on ahead, eyes set determinedly upon the nearest closed elevator. He was only a few yards away when it opened, and the three soldiers within were so surprised to see him that he met no resistance before he shot them all down. Dancing into the shelter of the elevator and kicking out the bodies he glanced back; Keil was surrounded, downing Venomians by the dozen with his magnificent ice blaster, but the docking bay was buzzing with extra pilots and they kept advancing.  
  
"Keil!" Slippy called, flinging one arm out to hold the elevator doors ajar. The Zonessian again raised the green gas gun and fired it, this time in Slippy's direction; he darted out of his shelter and sucked in a great breath, holding his nose as he plunged on through the lethal clouds of toxic gas. He emerged unharmed on the other side and unchallenged from behind, pumping his arms furiously to gain speed in his desperate run as the mercenary removed his arm and targeted the few Venomians still struggling to catch up with Keil. The door was halfway shut when Keil lunged through the opening to crash into the metallic wall at the back of the elevator; a final shot screamed through the crack in the door and impacted inches above his head, and the elevator shut behind them.  
  
"There . . . should be a . . . button . . . labeled defensive coordinations bay," Keil panted, and after scanning the panel Slippy pressed the correct button and they jolted upwards.  
  
"What was that . . . gas gun?" Slippy asked sheepishly, collapsing on the floor near his accomplice.  
  
Keil smiled weakly and glanced at the green blaster still clutched tightly in his left hand. "This little beauty? That's gaseous cyanide--lethal dose. One whiff of that stuff and your nasal passages burn, finally to eat away at vital lung tissue."  
  
Slippy's eyes widened. "Wicked."  
  
"Yeah." Keil let his head bang back against the wall as he set about regaining his breath, allowing himself to relax momentarily. It wasn't until the elevator shuddered to a stop three-quarters of the way to their destination that he got nervous.

* * *

Wolf couldn't help but chuckled at the panic-stricken looks on the faces of the toad and the coyote when he shut down all elevator access within Bolse. They were isolated about six floors below their destination in a broken-down elevator car; soon enough he would be watching with delight as a hand-picked defense team captured them and thrust them into Andross's clutches. Things weren't looking too anxious after all.  
  
Fox heard the bemused laughter from his nemesis and grew slightly nervous, for surely the two hackers had departed by now. "What's so funny, O'Donnel?"  
  
"Why, it's just precious. Your friends nearly had it in their heads that they could slip past Andross in his own domain!" Wolf broke into riotous laughter, joined by his mercenary team as they renewed their vicious onslaught. "Who convinced them to try something so ridiculous? It wasn't you, was it, McCloud?"  
  
That brought the vulpine up short; quickly he called for his team to regroup as he growled; "They'd better not be hurt, damn it, or I swear I'll--"  
  
"Strong words, commander, seeing as how threats will gain you nothing but the gruesome deaths of your friends," Leon put in smoothly. "But just to set your minds at ease, your meddlesome pair are as yet unharmed, though I cannot say for how much longer."  
  
"So basically, shut up," Pigma ordered them, clearly enjoying being in charge.  
  
As the mercenaries bantered back and forth, the siege of Bolse was on in full all around them. The Zonessian cruisers were in the picture now, having entered with surprise from the east to join General Pepper as the operation began. The area was alive with sound, color, and motion for miles, and although the numbers were roughly even the Cornerians were overwhelming their enemies with unrivaled skill. On the outside things were going well, but if Keil and Slippy failed inside the satellite, everyone's hopes would die with them.  
  
"What's happening, Fox?" Falco piped in, glancing at his friends' anger-tensed visage with concern. "Everything okay?"  
  
'They didn't hear a thing,' Fox realized silently. It made no sense to bother his three teammates with news of the slight complications within; after all, maybe they were being held up, but he suspected much more would transpire before the Venomians overwhelmed their two friends. "Fine, Falco. Split up and close in!"

* * *

Darkness fell within the elevator compartment as Keil and Slippy ground to a halt. Somewhere in the distance shouting could be heard; their enemies were closing in, and quickly.  
  
"Seach every stopped car! They couldn't have gone far!"  
  
"You there! Check all the stairwells!"  
  
Slippy's breath speeded up, joining his heartbeat in a rapid race. "Keil, they're onto us!"  
  
The coyote's eyes gleamed with excitement in the darkness a few feet away. "Tricky, tricky . . . they think if they stop one option we won't find another. What a bunch of dense opportunists. Luckily, I prepared for an event like this." A flicker of light shot through the blackness; Keil had lit a match and was studiously staring at the ceiling. "Just as I thought--an emergency escape compartment. If we can get up there, it'll lead us out to the elevator shaft." As Slippy looked on, Keil fumbled with a grappling gun banded to his belt and took careful aim, first firing at the square hatch and knocking it loose. Next he jumped in a perfect vertical line, just high enough to hang from the edge by his fingertips; with a grunt of effort he hoisted himself up and out, scrambling up and rolling to his feet. Kneeling he put out a hand for the mercenary, who leapt up and grabbed it; soon they were standing in a grubby and dirty shaft, squinting up into the gloom at the cables suspending their car in midair.  
  
"You go first," said Keil. "I'll cover you from behind, just in case you fall or our friends try to follow us."  
  
Nodding grimly Slippy slowly started ascending, concentrating on the repetitive hand-over-hand motion necessary for him to climb six additional floors. When all remained clear Keil re-holstered his guns and started up after him, patiently pausing every few seconds so his less-physical comrade could catch his breath. They continued on in this manner for four floors before they were accosted again.  
  
Thumping echoes wafted up to Keil's ears from below, and he narrowed his eyes and glanced down. Someone was pounding on the elevator door, attempting to force entry as the power was shut down. He commanded Slippy to pay it no mind and keep moving, and just after he said that the door was blasted apart and their pursuers rushed into the empty compartment. "Don't breathe!" he shouted up to the mercenary, and hanging precariously from the cables by one hand he fired a cloud of cyanide below, barring the Venomians' path toward them.  
  
As Slippy continued to scramble frantically higher, bare lightbulbs snapped back on in the shaft; again everything hummed to life, and to Keil's ultimate horror the elevator below them regained power and slowly began inching its way upward.  
  
"Climb, Slippy!" Keil urged, closing the distance between them and ascending at the young mercenary's heels. Slippy's hands were raw from grasping the coarse cables, but somehow he summonded up the energy to quicken his pace as Keil continued to shout him on from below. He topped the sixth story and tumbled into the alcove outside the closed door; Keil slipped, lost his grip, and fell to collapse on the elevator ceiling, groaning as he re-oriented himself. Slippy gasped, calling for the Zonessian to try again; the compartment was rapidly picking up speed, and in response to the mercenary's cries Keil secured everything to his belt and extended his arms in earnest.  
  
"I'm counting on you, Slippy!" he cried out. "Don't let me down!"  
  
The car was at a grueling speed when Slippy darted out, groping for and finding Keil's shirt; with a tremendous heave he yanked his comrade into the alcove a split-second before the elevator went thundering away above them.  
  
"Are you trying to get us both killed?!" Slippy shrieked at him, breath coming in short gasps.  
  
"I've been to jail so many times that I started taking chances to avoid going back," Keil offered in response. "Relax, kid--we're still alive, ain't we?"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Slippy rose and helped Keil to his feet. "For the present. You up for another wild ride?"  
  
On the opposite side of the closed elevator door, many voices could be heard shouting at one another to keep order. Keil winked at the mercenary, whisking his guns into his hands, and they burst in shooting.

* * *

'Too many,' Leon thought tensely, gritting his teeth against the feeling of overwhelmed dread that was tightening his throat. 'We never had a chance to succeed here; the Cornerians are too many with far too great of skill and strategy for our fleet to stand against them for much longer. Wolf knows it--he grows disheartened in the face of yet another failed mission.'  
  
This last statement was quite correct, for the eradication of this Venomian fleet was so devastating and complete that it struck them all hard. Wolf was no longer a match for Fox; Pigma was now shooting at anyone, be they friend or foe. Perhaps they would keep the satellite, but they would surely lose the day.  
  
"Come in, Wolf. This is Reivin Frost."  
  
The lupine nearly cried out with relief; at last, he was being offered a way out of the carnage. "I hear you. Is it time?"  
  
"Yes, it is time. Meet me on Venom, outside the Altar of Fallen Star. Oh, and Wolf . . . bring your A-game, won't you? It is high time the tables turned in our favor."  
  
"Affirmative." Abruptly Wolf disengaged from his constant combat with Fox and called the rest of his team together. "Bolse has long been overrun."  
  
"That was anticipated, but in a few hours it will cease to matter. Frost, over and out."  
  
The Star Wolf mercenaries turned to flee, leaving the Star Fox team in a state of utter perplexity as Wolf called, "Farewell, McCloud! So sorry to cut this date short, but we have other pressing matters to attend!" Before Fox could even order his team into a suitable pursuit their enemies had all but disappeared amongst the myriad of spacecraft, lost to all who would follow.  
  
"What was that all about?" Katt asked no one in particular, but the other were so speechless and fearful that no one answered her.

* * *

Keil tossed Slippy the sack of Titanian explosives, grimacing in satisfaction as he stepped gingerly around bodies to navigate the room. The pair were shaken up and slightly bruised, but both had yet to sustain any true injury. As the Zonessian settled comfortably into the chair at the main computer in the defensive coordinations bay he rummaged about one overlarge pocket, lit a cigarette, and lazily blew out a stream of smoke after his first deep draw. Slippy rushed about setting the detonators, firing questions at his accomplice as he did.  
  
"Do we need a password to invade the mainframe?"  
  
"Yep," said Keil, already typing at an expert's pace, face wreathed in smoke.  
  
"Have you got it?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"After the input, can you crash the shields?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
Slippy set the last bomb and turned back to Keil, slightly perturbed. "Dost thou love thy mercenary?"  
  
"Nice try, kid, but I am paying some remote attention." The coyote sat back, studying the screen with mild interest and holding his cigarette fashionable between his fore and middle fingers. "Fortunately our Venomian buddies aren't too bright--I just hacked past the password configuration and I'm staring down the barrel of the defensive systems shutdown."  
  
"Excellent." Slippy smiled as Keil easily terminated the shields around Bolse, leaving it vulnerable to the deadliest of Cornerian onslaughts. "Time to go."  
  
"Agreed. Let's bail." Keil rose quickly, synchronizing his wristwatch to seven minutes and pressing a small red button on the side. Before leaving the Great Fox for this particular mission, Keil and Slippy had combined their genius to create this watch, whose frequency was set to that of the detonators and would set them off after the desired time expired. A faint bleep sounded from the placed weapons, and Keil carefully replaced the cigarette between his teeth, saying, "Nearly done; now we've just got to hijack Venomian fighters from the nearest docking bay in seven minutes."  
  
The mercenary kicked the door in, kneeling around the frame to peer safely down the hallway. "Piece of cake; the coast is clear." He led the way, wincing every so often as they passed beneath a loudspeaker, for the call was still out for the intruders to be intercepted and foiled. The difficult parts of their mission were already behind them; in a few minutes Bolse would be internally crippled, paving the way for the Cornerians and Zonessians to bring it down in their wake. Behind Slippy, Keil was attempting to savor the last drags of his cigarette when he unholstered his freezing pistol and it fell from between his teeth. Cursing violently, he continued on.  
  
"Five minutes left before this place blows," Slippy informed Keil over his shoulder. They skittered around a corner and stopped dead in their tracks; the pair faced a pure adamantite door labeled 'primary squadron docking bay'.  
  
Keil stroked his chin and started tapping one boot thoughtfully. "Hmm . . . must be where they keep all the halfway decent ships. This won't do, though; I haven't go a single thing that can blast through adamantite."  
  
"Let's try to find another way in, then," Slippy suggested, and he turned down a perpendicular bisecting hallway.  
  
Keil took two steps in pursuit and heard a small, nondescript scuffing noise behind him; casting a negligent glance over his shoulder he spied a single Venomian peering nervously from around the corner they had just rounded, sighting Slippy's back down the twin barrels of some type of energy rifle. Barking out a single command to the mercenary Keil's hands snapped to his belt; the shot fired, and the coyote dove to intercept the beam before it struck Slippy. He hit the floor with a devastating thud, hands desperately grasping at a sizzling hole in his lower abdominal region.  
  
"KEIL!!" Slippy screamed. "NO!!"  
  
The mercenary drew out the Aggravator and advanced a step, gracefully dropping down to one knee as he did so and launching one shot that easily took out the sniper. Keil's hands were clutching his wound, fingers already sticky with blood; Slippy dropped quickly and pulled his friend in close to support him, hardly believing what had just occurred. "Keil! Keil, are you alright?"  
  
The coyote's blurry amber eyes flickered rapidly, as though he were struggling to keep them open and alert. "I . . ." His hands were completely stained with blood, but still he somehow managed a raspy chuckle and made to rise. "Yeah, I think so . . . we've got to get going . . ." Slippy hoisted Keil to his feet, slinging one of the coyote's arms around his own shoulders so he had something to lean on. A sick grimace shone blatantly in Keil's face; gritting his teeth, harnessing denial as an ally, Slippy dragged the wounded man down the hall with him.  
  
He wanted so very badly to cry, but it seemed that charge of getting them out alive had suddenly fallen upon him. Why hadn't he turned around sooner, the moment their adversary had appeared? It was all his fault; Keil had been shot trying to save him from harm. Slippy swallowed in fear and guilt.  
  
The docking bay was nearly empty, for by now most of the fleet had emptied in a desperate attempt to deter the Cornerians; Keil's legs failed him, and Slippy helped him sink down to the floor beside a wasplike Venomian craft. The Zonessian technician was laboring for breath as well; Slippy was holding him close, struggling not to cry, and he could feel the blood seeping from the wound and through his own clothes.  
  
"It's dark in here," Keil pointed out softly, and Slippy chose not to say how unnaturally bright it really was.  
  
"Keil, come on, I'll help you into a ship--" Slippy wriggled away from the older man and made to open the cockpit, but Keil laid a hand lightly on his forearm, drawing the mercenary's gaze, and he slowly shook his head.  
  
"Look, Slip . . . I just can't make it." His eyes were slightly glazed now, as though he was not truly seeing anything around them. "You've got to go on . . . without me."  
  
Slippy dropped back to his knees, tearing fiercely at the fabric that comprised his flight vest and struggling to make a bandage of some sort; he didn't know what to do, he wasn't a medic, but he had to do something, anything, couldn't imagine leaving this man, his savior and greatest friend, here to die! "Are you kidding me, Keil?! I can't do that! We're going to make it out of this, you've just got to hang in there for a little while longer, okay?!" His voice was unnaturally high-pitched; Slippy was beginning to panic.  
  
Keil pushed Slippy's hand--and the bandages--away, shifting to lay his head in the mercenary's lap. "No, Slippy! I came here . . . ready to die . . . completely prepared to give everything I had . . . for General Pepper and Captain Anilora. And I did . . . and it was worth it . . . but now I can't do . . . any more."  
  
Tears trailed down Slippy's cheeks, falling to drop onto Keil's forehead. "I can't leave you! Please . . . get up . . ."  
  
"You know something?" Keil weakly clutched at Slippy's hand, forcing a faint smile onto his thin, pale lips. "You were great . . . you're really . . . made of tough stuff . . . I'll never regret . . . saving you . . ." The Zonessian coughed once, and a spatter of red exploded from his mouth. The floor beneath him was soaked and slick with his own lifeblood; a beep sounded faintly from his wrist, signaling the start of the last minute. "Out of time . . . please . . . go, Slippy. You've got to go . . ."  
  
"No!" Slippy insisted, shoulders wracking with tremendous sobs. "What will I tell everybody? That I left you? That I gave up? I won't do that! I'll get you out, I'll save you, Keil, I swear . . ." He trailed away, dissolving into despair. "Just don't leave me . . . here alone."  
  
"Not . . . alone . . ." Keil was holding some thin, square object in the hand Slippy was clutching; the mercenary removed the floppy disk and shoved it in his pocket. "I always wanted you . . . to have that. And . . ." Keil's chest heaved, but he was determined to speak his last. "Just know that . . . you're never alone . . . I'll . . . always be there . . . Slippy . . ."  
  
Keil Ford was laying limply in a pool of dark crimson; his hand went limp in Slippy's and the mercenary eased his dead companion's head to the floor, bending over him in a wash of tears to briefly place an admiring kiss upon his forehead. Sobbing uncontrollably he slid the cyanide blaster from its holster and slipped it into his own belt, then he dashed for the nearest enemy spacecraft, leaving his hero to his tragic end.

* * *

One brief explosion followed by many others told the Cornerian fleet that the two hackers had succeeded; as the first shots lanced away toward the satellite cheers went up from everyone, for the beams not only hit but caused damage. Numerous jubilant cries of "Bring it down!" boomed over the intership channels, and the elation soared when Bolse was reduced to space junk.  
  
General Pepper, the three mercenaries, and Katt rushed to the Vortex Four docking bay, expressions wild and radiant, ready to joyously congratulate the victorious duo. Slippy was waiting for them, clutching the disk, face a disbelieving and sodden wreck as he approached them.  
  
"Where's Keil?" Katt questioned softly, and a feeling of dread descended upon them all.  
  
"He . . ." Slippy swallowed hard and wiped his face, eyes fixed on the floor. "He didn't make it."  
  
Each one took the news hard, Katt perhaps the worst of all as she swooned into Falco's chest and exploded into an ocean of unstoppable tears. Fox ran a hand down his face and squinted his eyes shut; Peppy turned away, hanging his head. Slippy started walking, striding silently past them and out of sight.

* * *

Word sped around each cruiser in the entire fleet that a change of direction was in order; instead of departing to strike Venom's right side straight away, General Pepper had decided to rendezvous with Captain Anilora and the allied triad at Area 6. They set off at once, following Vortex Four in a grand procession due west, praying they would not be too late to help.  
  
Alone with his grief, Slippy sat on the edge of his bed that evening, staring evently at the disk Keil had given him moments before his death. It didn't matter that his computer screen was bright before him, or that the mechanism was waiting for a command--Keil Ford's life was far more important to him than anything he could have ever imagined, and the heartache he felt would not allow him to continue.  
  
Crying anew, he slipped it beneath his mattress. 


	21. Chapter Twenty: Through The Middle

Chapter Twenty: "Through The Middle"  
  
A slight artificially-generated breeze was all it took to lull Bill into sleep when he collapsed into his bed before the Cornerians' siege of Bolse. For two days straight he and every other man who knew anything about repairs had been hard at work on the fleet's many battered ships. Captain Anilora himself was on the verge of collapse; as always, he wasn't sleeping much. Again the three Fortunan technicians proved utterly indispensable; using new computer software they were able to pinpoint each spacecraft's problems, and where, and how to fix them, so the process progressed far better than anyone had dared to hope.  
  
Celestra stumbled into her best friends' room, dropping her cloak and kicking her boots into a heap on the floor. "Good idea," she said groggily to the sleeping Katinan, and she shoved him over a bit and crawled under the blankets beside him, snuggling up to his back for added warmth.  
  
The two assassins passed four hours in this manner, oblivious to Anilora entering once and backing out quietly so as not to disturb them. At last Bill awoke, wriggling away gently so Celestra could rest, and left for a few minutes. Although he was quite silent she still stirred when he returned, blinking sleep out of her eyes.  
  
"What are you doing?" she mumbled between yawns.  
  
Bill was carrying a thin square box under his arm, a half-eaten slice of pizza hanging from his mouth. "Food," he grunted simply, and Celestra leap upon the box. "Sleep well?" he asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Starving," Celestra pointed out, devouring a giant slice of the cheese pizza. "Haven't eaten since yesterday."  
  
"Me neefer," Bill admitted through a tremendous mouthful.  
  
A polite knock sounded on the door and Anilora stepped inside, violet eyes instantly settling on the pizza. "Would it be presumptuous of me to drool?" he asked, sitting cross-legged beside his friends and helping himself. "I could smell it in the hallway . . ."  
  
Celestra snorted, a very undignified sound; the Katinans shared a hearty laugh. For the next few minutes the air was filled with the sound of chewing, and when every scrap had been devoured they sat back with contented sighs. Anilora leaned forward, surveying them with a measure of seriousness, and resolved to break the silence. "I assume you know why I'm here."  
  
"I do," Bill admitted, stifling a soft belch. "Ya need help with your speech. Ya never could give decent speeches," he added with a wink.  
  
"What speech?" Celestra pressed, glancing back and forth between the two.  
  
"It is tradition for an important figurehead in the Katinan government to deliver a speech before attacking foreign territories," Anilora explained, and he seemed nervous. "You both know I am anything but spontaneous--we attack in mere hours, and my nerves prevent me from arranging something eloquent or appropriate enough."  
  
Bill settled back against a pillow, stretching his arms. "Can't say I've got any ideas, Cap'n."  
  
"I remember my predecessors' public speaking," Anilora reminisced, referring to the previous Katinan captain, Arial LeValley. "He was absolutely riveting. The men expect me in two hours--what will I say? I cannot let them down; they expect it."  
  
"Don't worry," assured Celestra, patting him on the back comfortingly. "I'll take care of it."  
  
Anilora looked up, eyes shining with gratitude. Almost four years ago Celestra had prepared his election speech while he was running for the position of Katinan captain against Ziek Necro, his rival. The speech was nothing short of perfect when delivered by the passionate Anilora, and he instantly won the hearts of all in attendance. "You'll write the speech for me?" "Of course I will. Bill's right--you never could think up a good speech on your own, but with the right words your speaking affluency could win anybody over."  
  
Captain Anilora bowed his head, at a loss for words. "Thank you."

* * *

Naturally when Celestra entered the docking bay two hours later to find Anilora and Bill standing on a raised dias facing one thousand people she nearly kicked herself. It wasn't that she had forgotten the speech, but she had neglected to write it down! She joined Sensenic Morray and Erik and William Nioxin, and as the four qued up to the platform she rapidly berated herself. A wonderful speech she had created, exemplary even by her standards, but she couldn't whisper it all into Anilora's ear and expect him to remember it all or recite it word-for-word. The grave look on her face explained it all as he approached her, and the captain's expression changed to one of horror. "Oh, dear--what shall I do now?"  
  
Celestra's eyes darted over the crowd. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen so many fearful and downtrodden people all gathered together in one place. They needed to hear words of inspiration and consolence, and Anilora would never forgive himself if he let them all down. The assassin turned back to the fretting captain and placed a hand to his cheek.  
  
"Relax," she murmured softly to him, and he calmed at her gentle voice. "I said I'd take care of it, didn't I? So I will." Nodding to Bill she exhaled nervously and turned to the crowd, stepping out in front of her five comrades and motioning for attention. The soldiers gradually fell silent, and Celestra bravely raised her voice for all to hear.  
  
"My fellow Katinans! Yes . . . today I count myself among you. Today, when the darkness that is all around us would presume to take the very heart of me; today, when we stand upon the brink of a new tomorrow the likes of which we have not seen these ten long years; today, when all hope we have ever known would easily give way to despair. Today I call myself a Katinan; today I count myself among you, knowing wholeheartedly that today we are one in the same.  
  
"As I presume to call myself Katinan, I shall also call myself Fortunan. You have come far from the mountainous region that you call home, and today I know how that feels. Similarly I am Aquan, for you have come just as far from the call of the sea.  
  
"Collectively, all three of your proud races have left behind something more than just your homes; maybe you've left behind families, or maybe something else very special to you. Regardless, all of you who stand before me have willingly turned your backs on something you deeply care for. There is no greater sacrifice than that.  
  
"I see so many different emotions as I look at you all; pride, fear, confusion . . . but above all, I see doubt. Understand, my friends, that today will not be our end. I cannot stand here and telll you that no one will die today, but I do understand the sacrifice we have all made. Many of our lives have been leading up to this moment, the moment that will make us or break us, the moment that will save us or enslave us.  
  
"There is no such thing as an individual today, there is only one force. One harmony between all of us gathered upon this grand ship. Should you try to carry the hopes and dreams of others upon you, you will fail. It is not through believing in yourself that we will win today, but believing in all of us. Believing in us as one force, not believing in us as individuals.  
  
"I see in your eyes the need for resolution. Many sacrifices will be made today; I say that with conviction, for I know in my heart that not everyone can be saved. Some lives will be spared, others not; that is the risk we all took, knowing that each life lost brings us closer to our ultimate goal. None of us would be standing here if we did not believe that it can be done. I myself had my doubts, but everything gets a little brighter when I realize that I'm not in it alone. We all had chances to walk away, to give up and leave this opportunity behind, but we never gave up.  
  
"I see in your eyes a fear that would drive us to our deaths, but most importantly of all you are still here, regardless of that fear. And that, my friends, makes all the difference; that is the reason we will not fail this day.  
  
"So today, on that field of battle, when all your hope begins to shrink, when all you believe in seems to fall away, remember what it is that brought you here! Remember what it is you're fighting for! Understand that you are not alone! Understand that this day is not our end! Together as a force we will overcome! Together as one we can prevail!  
  
"Today I am a Katinan, and a Fortunan, and an Aquan. Today I have never been so proud to say that I belong to three races. We will rise and fall; we will triumph and suffer; we will succeed and stumble. But it is not our end that will come today!  
  
"Forth, all of you, to the end of Andross or life itself!"  
  
The docking bay became an uproar of cheers, some spurred by inspiration, by excitement, by nerves, or some other emotion that remained utterly indescribable. Nearly everyone shed tears at Celestra's honest and heartfelt words; some cried openly, others brushed away tears they would rather hide, but the impact remained the same on each person. Bill was grinning broadly, nodding his head at her in praise and frantically wiping a mist from his eyes; Sensenic Morray was sobbing with his face in his hands. Anilora stood alone among the ecstatic tumult, gazing at her blankly, hands hanging limply at his sides.  
  
The captain rushed at her in a crushing hug, whispering, "Thank you--so much," into her ear. Something strong and warm rose up within Celestra as she stood there, secure in Anilora's arms, and she pulled away and fixed him with an intense stare.  
  
"You know what I want to say," she said in a rush, unheard over the crowd by anyone save him. "It's completely at the wrong time, and so inappropriate, but I need to--"  
  
"--I know," Anilora interrupted, shaking his head, laughing as he realized that hearing it would not change what he already knew. "Not today, perhaps, but one day when the war is over--" "--One day," Celestra cut back in, and she twined her slender fingers into his and smiled so brightly that he felt his heart would never again feel despair. "And that day I will never forget."  
  
All around them pilots were boarding their spacecraft and ejecting from open hangars, still crying out phrases such as "We will overcome!", "Not our end!", and "Life itself!". Bill grabbed Celestra by the forearm and attempted to tug her in the direction of Bringer of Chaos and was very surprised when she violently thrashed away from him. "Come on, Celest, you, me, and the Nioxins are leadin' the way!"  
  
Behind them Sensenic Morray called, "Captain! To the helm! We must away at once! The fighting is upon us!", and Anilora glanced deeply into Celestra's eyes again.  
  
"I can't. What if this is truly the end for one of us? What if one of us must die for a victory? What if--"  
  
Celestra stopped him with an upraised hand and accepted her utility belt from the Katinan assassin, strapping it on rapidly as she said, "Then you or I or both of us will die with the knowledge that in the end, we knew. Nothing has been left unsaid between us--isn't that enough?"  
  
Anilora released her hands and nodded resolutely. "Yes; that is always enough." Morray pulled him away, and they sprinted off for the helm of Whitewater. Before he was out of sight he shouted, "One day!", and then he was gone.  
  
"One day," the female assassin agreed quietly, and she, Bill, William, and Erik fastened themselves into the cockpits of their Arwings. When the way was clear they blasted out of the docking bay, ready to fight the last battle to the end of Andross.  
  
Or life itself.

* * *

One well-placed electron detonator from William Nioxin eliminated the first Venomian cruiser in a line of fifty-seven of such craft, in effect starting the battle at Area 6. Bill skirted on ahead, leading the fifty Aquan warriors into the left flank of their enemies and striking hard at the third squadron in line. The Nioxin brothers swept in from below at the head of the two hundred Fortunan pilots, fearlessly attacking the right side and tearing devastating holes in the Venomian cruisers. Last but not least Celestra curved in from above, seven hundred and fifty enraged Katinans streaming along behind her; the lot of them streaked straight through the middle, where the female assassin butted heads with Reivin Frost. She planed away upon seeing his black fighter, leaving a few Katinan lieutenants to lead the charge, and he followed her without hesitation to clash far to the left of the advancing Whitewater.  
  
"I'm going to make you earn your passage through," he snarled at her, taking a few shots that missed the Bringer of Chaos and lanced out of sight.  
  
Celestra snickered. "Careful--if you keep me out here too long I won't feel obliged to kill you quickly later."  
  
A large Fortunan cruiser with the name FrigidFire glided near Whitewater, and Anilora heard Morray's voice: "They are concealing their more valuable fighters in the center of the fleet; we should come in behind the Katinans and hit them from the inside out."  
  
The other cruisers of the allied triad fell into a spiral array behind them, and together they slowly crept forward as Anilora said, "Is that your starship, Sensenic?!"  
  
The arctic fox chuckled, standing behind FrigidFire's pilot at the helm and pointing out their pattern of attack. "Yes, Captain; the first in the series of the Zodiac. I give you the Z-Infinity Aquarius, its own powerhouse out here in battle. You will see its prowess soon."  
  
"I daresay I will."  
  
Ahead and to the right Erik shouted to William, "Doctor Morray has unveiled the Aquarius at last, brother."  
  
"Indeed." The pair began to fall into a routine much akin to th eone they had used in Sector Z, moving from cruiser to cruiser and aiming for its vitals. The Aquans quickly caught on to the familiar game and enthusiastically jumped in as William boasted, "If they were afraid of our little electron detonators, they're in for a real treat next!"  
  
"That's what you think, Fortunans," Reivin growled, breaking away from Celestra just long enough to shout, "Deploy it! Now!"  
  
From somewhere far overhead dropped a single armored battleship, every bit as large as ten regular Venomian cruisers melded together. Enormous oval-shaped cannons sprang from its black and gold decorated sides, vibrating with barely contained firepower; the battleship could easily have been mistaken for a space station, so solid and immense its appearance.  
  
Reivin cackled wickedly to himself. "Allow me to introduce to you the Interstellar Commander One. Contrary to what you may gather from its sheer size it is the most maneuverable Venomian battleship to date, complete with thirty-six plasma cannons. Let us see your Z-Infinity nonsense hold a candle to that."  
  
Folding his hands behind his back nonchalantly, Morray nodded to a cyborg manning the weapons of FrigidFire. It pressed one robotic digit to a large yellow button just below the G-Diffuser screen, letting loose what seemed to be a much larger version of the electron detonators Erik and William had used during the ambush and crashing heavily into the starboard side of the IC-One. No significant damage was wrecked upon the battleship, but Reivin knew it couldn't tolerate a handful of well-placed shots like that. "Electron cannonfire," Morray explained airily. "Three times as strong as their detonator counterparts. The Aquarius can hold forty such blasts."  
  
The Venomian assassin laughed long and hard at that. "What is your name, Fortunan? You are worthy of my awe."  
  
Morray swept into a deep, statuesque bow. "Why, thank you; and it's Sensenic Morray."  
  
"Well, Morray, let us see whose starship is the most impressive, shall we?"  
  
Morray leaned to the pilot's side and whispered, "Concentrate all your efforts upon that battleship, else I fear it may obliterate our ranks." Then to Reivin he said, "That is a challenge I will accept. Keep your eyes on me, respectable Mr. Frost--you shall soon see the difference between size and skill."

* * *

"Nicely played, Doc Morray," Bill muttered under his breath. The new Venomian battleship could cause mass chaos if unleashed upon the allied triad, so it was all the better for everyone to concentrate on the many crafts around them while clever Sensenic Morray dealt with the IC-One on his own. Even as he watched FrigidFire disengaged from the congregation of cruisers and ambled east to do battle with the Interstellar Commander, and Anilora pressed forward into the bulk of the Venomian fleet. Calling out to his Aquan followers Bill swept around in a semicircle, doubling back behind Whitewater as if making to flee; the Venomians pursued, aiming for the kill, and their surprise was complete when the assassin led one great U-turn right back at them, presenting them with not only fifty Arwings but a Katinan warship as well. The shock strike offered them a gaping hole through which they eagerly slipped through, coming up the middle, passing the two battling assassins, and joining the Katinans in the front.  
  
As well as the siege was going, though, something didn't feel quite right. They were still outnumbered by a considerable amount, but to a veteran fighter pilot like Bill everything seemed too easy. Off to one side the Nioxins brought down another cruiser; Morray was trading shots with the battleship now, and the Fortunan fleet, sensing weakness, dove into the fray with the others and dashed ahead.  
  
Three Venomian starships, secluded in a tight triangle formation, parted as the advance strengthened; a knot formed in Bill's stomach, and he shouted, "Fall back!" as loudly as he could before plasma cannons went off in the center of the group. A second battleship melted through the gap in the cruisers, bearing the name Interstellar Commander Two.  
  
"Forgot to mention," Reivin Frost cackled over the radio. "There's two of those IC's. Enjoy, Gilraen."  
  
Anilora gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the back of his pilot's chair. "I shouldn't be so cocky, Reivin; this battle is far from over."  
  
"Yes, I see that, but where are your ships?"  
  
The Katinan captain peered into the wreckage and gasped, thoroughly dismayed; all the Arwings unfortunate enough to be in the circle of fire had been obliterated by the blasts.  
  
"At least two hundred downed!" called one of the Aquan tacticians. "Nearly all of them Katinan! What is your course of action, Captain?"  
  
In answer, Erik and William Nioxin spiraled down toward the IC-Two, paralleling the roof of the battleship and loosing their electron detonators. As the enormous cruiser swiveled its cannons to target the pair of Fortunans Bill swept in, also firing with the detonators and taking the immediate attention away from his two friends.  
  
"We will do all we can to bring this one down!" shouted Erik, backlashing behind Bill and firing again to give the assassin an opening. "Don't worry for us, Captain--continue about your efforts!"  
  
"Aquans!" shouted Anilora, expertly perusing the combat layout. "Form up around the cruisers and provide a defense! Fortunans, around the the left! Katinans, away to the right! All cruisers, exert pressure on the center!"  
  
Again the battle escalated in full, the allied triad rushing in from their appointed directions and assaulting the Venomians again at their full strength. To their credit, the Venomians squeezed together into a decent defense, but with the Aquans taking all the heavy blows the cruisers fired upon the opposing fleet at their leisure. With the two IC's occupied and away from the weaker spots Anilora was able to maneuver his men into more suitable formations, but they were still being overwhelmed and losing badly.

* * *

FrigidFire was giving Interstellar Commander One an excellent fight, proving that speed mattered more than raw power as it dodged the majority of the plasma cannons, snuck in through openings, and lanced away with cannonballs of highly-charged electrons. Morray could tell the instant Bakura Staletto, the commander of IC-One, unseated his licensed pilot and took up the controls himself, for the flying style drastically changed and two expertly-fired plasma cannons rocked the Fortunan starship and discarded Morray to the floor.  
  
"That won't do at all," Sensenic Morray said as he calmly rose to his feet and dusted off the seat of his pants. "Let me have a go; I did build this thing, you know."  
  
This last was aimed at his own pilot; with a nod the Fortunan rose, and Morray rubbed his hands together and gleefully took command.  
  
"About time you decided to get serious, Morray," Bakura quipped at him.  
  
Morray chuckled, not bothered in the least. "My pilot was doing an admirable job hitherto; why would I step in when I felt certain he could kill you without my help?"  
  
Bakura cursed at the Fortunan. "He did nothing of the sort," he fired back.  
  
"My dear Bakura, that matters not at all, for I will."  
  
In reply the Venomian commander roared an expletive and changed tactics, unveiling a double-barreled cannon at the battleship's head and firing. Morray was quite unprepared for the brutal onslaught and therefore had little time to dodge, settling for diving right and taking one of the blasts in the lower left wing. Bakura howled in victory; Morray firmed his jaw and righted himself at the helm.  
  
"What's the matter, Morray?" he spat at his enemy, laughing with glee. "Reached the bottom of your seemingly endless bag of tricks?"  
  
"Why, yes," Morray admitted calmly, already typing a new command into the weapons' console at high speed. "I'm afraid you've got me in checkmate."  
  
There was a slight pause in the battle in which Bakura felt certain that he had indeed bested the brilliant Fortunan, then a faint whirring sound filled the silence and his thoughts of victory were quenched. The front of FrigidFire blossomed and opened like some many-petaled flower, and a six-barreled apparatus sprouted and elongated from the center. Morray pressed another button and sat back to watch, and at his command the blaster went off, rotating barrels all the while and devastating the left flank of the Venomian battleship. Many heads turned to discern the great spectacle of Morray's masterpiece; Bakura was jolted form his seat, mouth agape in shock.  
  
"I proudly introduce my latest creation," Morray continued, surveying the damage with satisfaction. "I call it MOEC--Machine-gun Operated Electron Cannons. It features a six-barreled mechanism that rotates on a circular basis, firing forty rounds in fifteen seconds. And if you're thinking that you can rupture the barrels with a few professionally-fired plasma cannons, think again--the shafts are made of adamantite, a flashy addition from our very own Erik and William Nioxin."  
  
"Thank you for the recognition, Doctor!" acknowledged Erik from the other side of the battlefield.  
  
"Truly we couldn't have done it without you!" added William.  
  
Bakura didn't know what to do next. A weapon like that could wipe out the lot of them if given the opportunity, much less his battleship alone; seeing hesitation Morray laughed and said, "Cheer up, admirable Mr. Staletto! I can only use it nine times more!" That brought a look of purest horror to the Venomian's face, prompting Morray grin and add a self-admiring "Damn; I'm good."

* * *

Celestra was winning; she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins like an addiction as she handled Reivin like he was her inferior. All that was saving Anilora's fleet from outward annihilation was better technology, something the Fortunans were responsible for; they had produced the Bringer of Chaos, FrigidFire, and the elecrton detonators all in the nick of time, offering their allies the chance to cling to life. They were all struggling--she with Reivin, the fleet with the defense about the station, and Morray, Bill, Erik, and William with the battleships--but they weren't defeated yet and refused to go down without fighting their best fight first. Celestra was now darting absentmindedly about, searching for an opening that she might flee for the surface of Venom, but the ranks were tight and Reivin was not forfeiting aerial combat. By now she saw him merely as an irritation; this wasn't the fight she wanted at all, but a hand-to-hand contest of physical strength, as they had already agreed. So she let Reivin have his way, biding her time until the opportune moment when she might make with all speed to the home of Andross.

* * *

The pilot of Interstellar Commander Two was becoming thoroughly frustrated with the continuing antics of Bill, William, and Erik. The three Arwins had set to collaborating in a perfect tag-team, letting one of them bombard the battleship with the detonators while the other two drew the attention away from the attacker. It was an excellent offensive maneuver, one that never left any one man open for retaliation, and the pilot thought himself beaten very early on.  
  
Bill rushed in from the right, completely unseen as Erik and William passed in front of the cockpit and looped around to the left. As expected the pilot swiveled left, trying in vain to track down the two pesky Fortunans as Bill opened fire, inciting pockmarks all down the starboard side, and the pilot cursed as all three again escaped unscathed.  
  
"That was great!" William congratulated, sharing a victorious laugh with his comrades as they watched smoke rise from a few of the battleship's vulnerable spots. "Can I have another go?" "No way! It's my turn and you know it!" Erik protested.  
  
William pouted to his brother. "Please, brother?"  
  
Erik sighed and rubbed his sapphire eyes briskly. "Oh . . . I suppose. But when you're done, I get to fire on it twice."  
  
"Deal." William snickered excitedly and swept around to the right again, motioning for the other two to take the opposite direction and distract the pilot. "This time I'll at least get something to catch fire."  
  
The IC-Two pilot was enraged at the trio, was so overcome with rage that he became consumed by the thought of puncturing their laughter with tragedy. When Erik and Bill lazily came into view, therefore, he grinned wickedly and ignored them completely, singling out an unsuspecting, defenseless William. The first plasma cannon blew away the craft's right wing; William cried out, and the second bomb incinerated all that remained of his Arwing.  
  
"WILLIAM!!" shrieked Erik, flipping a hasty U-turn and speeding toward the cloud of smoke that remained. "WILLIAM!!!"  
  
"NO, ERIK!!!" Bill shouted after him, taking off in pursuit, but the Fortunan acted as though he hadn't even heard. Quite the contrary he was speeding toward the very head of Interstellar Commander Two as though he was contemplating suicide. "STOP! DON'T DO THIS!!" Boosting his thrusters to maximum Bill rolled in front of Erik and did the only thing he could think to do--he fired, crippling one of Erik's wings and sending him off-balance. The shot was so precise, so expectly fired, that it caused only enough damage to abort all systems but leave Erik himself unharmed at the same time. Erik fixed Bill with a murderous glare through the G-Diffuser screen, but the intimidating effect was ruined by the twin diamond tears shining in his eyes.  
  
"Why?!" Erik pleaded of him, and the sight broke Bill's heart. "How could you stop me when he . . . when my brother just . . . " His voice trailed helplessly away as he caved completely into grief.  
  
"Listen, Erik, I completely believe in vengeance," Bill told him evenly, surveying him with respect and pity. "But if ya do this now, you'll kill yourself."  
  
Sobbing, Erik Nioxin spun away from the assassin and sped off into the melee.

* * *

It all happened in an instant; Celestra blinked, and there before her gaped an opening through the Venomian defenses, creating an almost perfect straight path to the enemy planet. With a triumphant smirk on her lips Celestra fired Bringer of Chaos' engines, leaving Reivin behind her.  
  
Coolly the evil assassin established a communications link between his spacecraft and the distant Wolf O'Donnel's. "Come in, Wolf. This is Reivin Frost."  
  
After a moment the mercenary's relieved voice could be heard. "I hear you. Is it time?"  
  
Reivin could not suppress a sadistic grin. "Yes, it is time. Meet me on Venom, outside the Altar of Fallen Star. Oh, and Wolf . . . " Here the assassin suddenly turned maniacal, seriously businesslike. "Bring your A-game, won't you? It is high time the tables turned in our favor."  
  
"Affirmative. Bolse has long been overrun."  
  
"That was anticipated, but in a few hours it will cease to matter." Reivin couldn't hide a touch of malice in his voice at the news; he had hoped the Cornerians wouldn't win outright, and it sounded as though they already had. "Frost, over and out." Terminating the link Reivin sped off after his nemesis, preparing himself for the task ahead. The Altar of Fallen Star had been no random choice of his; it was rumored that James McCloud, Fox's father, had been murdered there.  
  
What a fitting place for Celestra's humiliating demise.

* * *

Sensenic Morray jumped in surprise when the door to the control room banged open; he had just gotten tired of toying with Bakura Staletto and was contemplating the best way to eliminate the Interstellar Commander One. Swiveling in his chair he quickly let go of his momentary irritation; there stood Erik Nioxin, balled fists trembling at his sides, angry tears welling in his eyes. He opened his mouth to spit some curse, some evil condemnation, but all that came out was a quiet and helpless "Doctor Morray . . . it's William . . . he . . ."  
  
The older Fortunan rose slowly, knees quaking from the realization of what must have happened to Erik's twin brother. They gazed back at one another for some time, shaking with sorrow, fighting tears, and then Morray swept Erik into a crushing hug and they sobbed against each other for the longest time. After a few minutes Erik pulled back, sapphire pupils wide with hatred, and his gaze darted out the window to the mess that was the first Venomian warship.  
  
Morray guided him to the helm and sat him in the commanders' chair, murmuring, "As a son you are to me, and your brother was as well. Even though you are no relation of mine, still I love you dearly, as I would my own child, had I one."  
  
"Why?" Erik asked tonelessly. "Why him and not me? I gave in almost instantly when he begged me to let him attack; if I had just been more firm--"  
  
"This was not of your doing," Morray assured honestly, placing his hands on the younger Fortunan's shoulders.  
  
Erik blinked; another tear trailed away through the white fur of his face. "Damn them," he growled, infuriated again. "Damn them all for stealing my brother from me!" With that he issued the command for MOEC to fire, downing the fire battleship at last.  
  
The sight of the wreckage filled Erik's heart with a dark satisfaction, momentarily slaking his need for the destruction. But the need proved insatiable, and he turned his eyes upon the IC-Two.  
  
His broken heart demanded he claim the life of his brothers' killer. "For you, William," he promised as he set his sights firmly on it. "For you, brother." 


	22. Chapter TwentyOne: Overmatched?

Chapter Twenty-One: "Overmatched?" 

Entering Venomian airspace proved an easy task, for most of Andross's followers had deployed for Bolse and Area 6 and few remained behind now to deter Celestra's landing. She suspected that she was the first non-Venomian to set foot on this planet of her own volition in years, an accomplishment lost on her as she padded about in search of a battlefield that favored her. The ground had some give to it, imparting a squishy sensation every time she took a step; great clouds of brown steam wafted up through cracks in the rock, and trickles of some eerie yellow liquid ran in rivulets along the uneven surfaces. The sky was similarly clouded by a veil of unnatural brownish-green fog, and Celestra almost wished she didn't have to breathe for the disgust she felt.

"Is this whole planet dead?" she mused aloud, pitying the unthinking lackeys Andross had snared into his grasp that were forced to endure such pollution.

A little further on (she guessed she was heading generally eastward) Celestra stumbled upon something that seemed somehow familiar. It was a pentagonal-shaped dias carved out of the rock underfoot, bearing the symbol of Andross in its center; five crumbling steps led to a brass nameplate that read simply THE ALTAR OF FALLEN STAR. The ruin was encompassed by eight pillars, each one representing the creed of Andross: chaos, destruction, greed, hatred, betrayal, dominion, cruelty, and deception. Celestra spat on the dias in resentment.

"Beware your actions," came Reivin's voice behind her. "You are very far from home; such things are considered blasphemy here."

The tone in his voice suggested that he wasn't finished speaking; Celestra continued to study the nameplate as Reivin scaled the stairs and halted at her side. His weapons were sheathed and his arms were crossed, and she made no moves to draw hers. For several moments they stood in some kind of revered silence, then he continued. "This is one of the last sacred places still intact from the first Lylat War, and the only one of such places upon this planet."

Celestra nodded once to show that she understood; she had visited other such places with Bill before. "And its significance?"

Reivin's empty jade eyes were glittering strangely. "This altar marks the final battle in that previous war, in which Lord Andross cast down and killed Star Fox mercenary leader James McCloud. It is also of importance to me because this is where I swore fealty to Andross eight years ago."

"With what to gain?" Celestra responded instantly, and her adversary raised his eyes to the heavens.

"Power and domination. It was all I desired from the beginning--the power to change all that I despised and the dominance to be seen and worshiped by my underlings." Reivin stepped down from the dias and stood facing one of the pillars, fingers gently tracing the ancient Venomian rune for dominion. "I knew well enough that Andross could easily grant me both if I remained loyal to him, so I did his dirty work for the amount of time needed to enter his trusted inner circle. Predictably it paid off in the end--as you can undoubtedly tell, I am Andross's most trusted follower."

Celestra turned on him then, breaking the string of almost docile conversation. "You mean slave? Because that's what you really are, you know."

If she had hoped to raise an infuriated tirade from him, she failed; Reivin closed his eyes and chuckled softly. "Tell me something, Celestra--you and I were very close in our younger days, just as close as you and Bill. Why didn't you follow me to Venom? You could have achieved greatness here, and we would fight so well together."

The female assassin's blue eyes widened, as if she could hardly believe what she was hearing. At a loss for words she merely stammered, "Are you . . . kidding?"

Reivin looked up, and the curious glint in his eyes faded to one of eerie calm; the unexpected change gave Celestra chills. "Far from it."

"You killed half our friends from the Cornerian Flight Academy!" Celestra raged, regaining her composure. "You hunted me from age sixteen on up to exact revenge on Bill! Why would I follow you, my would-be assassin, and leave Bill, my greatest friend who has never betrayed me?"

"Opportunity," Reivin countered simply, as though the answer was obvious. "The two of us shared so much more; it only made sense that we continue on in the same manner."

Under another circumstance Celestra would have felt certain that Reivin was merely trying to spite her, to keep her at odds with herself, but the quiet, even tone to his voice and that awful calm lingering about his eyes made her feel that he was speaking truthfully. "We shared nothing!" she spat back forcefully, but she was now more intrigued by his continued lack of hostility than angry. "You just took the cowards' way out!"

Reivin subconsciously carressed the rune of deception and shook his head. "You know as well as I that we shared many unspoken feelings. We were both orphaned at early ages; we both wished revenge upon those who destroyed our families, and to accomplish that we turned to natural talent and ambition to make us the very best. We both let our loneliness grow into depression and at last to hatred--"

"And there's the difference between you and me!" Celestra burst in loudly, pale eyes flashing. "You took your hate out on those responsible for rescuing you from the same fate; I channeled it into fighting the ones who brought on my solitude!"

"You're wrong again, my dear Celestra. I turned on those who would presume to sugarcoat my parents' deaths with some tragic and heroic tale; Andross told me the whole truth, no compassionate strings attached. The Dark Lord never one tried to sublimate my capabilities, opting instead to help me harness and control them; General Pepper feared the talent I had in store, and would have suffocated me in his ranks before ever giving me the chance I deserved!"

Celestra was shocked; here at last was the grand scheme behind Reivin's long-past betrayal! Slowly she approached and placed one delicate hand to his cheek, the first non-aggressive contact between the two since their childhood years. The touch issued sudden eye-contact between them, a look that lasted many moments before Celestra asked, "Why now, Reivin? Where was all this eight years ago, when all I wanted was a reason?"

Reivin slapped her hand away, and the cold, emotionless sparkle returned to his eyes. "Because I wanted you to understand everything . . . before you died today."

Celestra leapt back a step as though truly stung, scowling and drawing her switchblades. Reivin casually smoothed out a stray feather before doing the same, now shaking his head in remorse. "I had hoped there was still a chance you would submit to Andross willingly, that he might open your eyes to your greatest potential as he did for me. Regrettably I see that is impossible, so you leave me with no choice--I must end you life here and now."

"What makes you think I'll lose?" Celestra gritted.

"I have my assurances." Reivin nodded his head to indicate something behind her; Celestra turned to look.

The four mercenaries of Star Wolf were standing on the dias, surveying her with malicious pleasure.

"Recently the five of us came to an understanding," Wolf began to explain with a sneer.

"We really don't care how you die," Pigma added dismissively.

"So long as you die, here and now," said Andrew.

"We won't resent the one who delivers the final blow," Leon finished deviously. "We'll congratulate him."

Celestra took one step away from them and flinched when she nearly ran into Reivin. "I don't believe this . . . you . . ." She fixed Reivin with an angry, steely look. "You let me believe you and I would finish this on even terms, and you meant to call them here all along!"

"Very good, Celestra," Reivin congratulated with a sinister laugh. "Now . . . what do you say we get this over with? I don't want you to suffer . . . too much."

With an enraged battle cry Celestra dove at Reivin, coming in fast with a one-two combination aimed for his ribs. The evil assassin side-stepped the first strike and parried the second harmlessly wide with a nonchalant sweep of one arm. A shot fired form one of the mercenaries at her back, and she ducked just in time, watching it sail over her shoulder and singe a few of Reivin's feathers. Celestra pivoted as Leon came in close and batted one of his daggers away from her thigh; Pigma kicked out, lashing her across the backs of the knees, and she fell to the dirt. Laughter filled her ears; someone grabbed a handful of her ebony hair and jerked her mercilessly to her feet, and then a punch came flying out of nowhere and everything was dark.

* * *

"We can be there in an hour," Fox said with a sigh. "We're moving as fast as we can."

"And I thank you," Anilora returned absently, focusing more on the battle before his eyes than the mercenaries trying vainly to capture his attention for a fleeting moment. "But I fear the battle will have ended by the time you arrive, if that is the case."

Peppy nervously twitched his whiskers at this. "General Pepper hesitates to take us into hyperspace; if we overshoot Area 6 it will take us longer to reach you."

"And if it succeeds?"

"We could be with you sometime between ten and fifteen minutes," Fox hypothesized, glancing over at the two quiet members of his team. Slippy was sitting wordlessly in the middle of the couch, staring down at his hands incomprehensibly, and Falco was sitting on Celestra's familiar windowsill, frowning out the window.

"Beg him to take the risk," Anilora pleaded, at last focusing fully on Fox. "If the jump into hyperspace does not fail, we may yet take the defense station. Anilora, over and out."

"I'll tell him," Slippy offered softly, and he slouched out of the room. Falco leapt off the windowsill and strode up to his mercenary leader.

"Something's not right," he said, clearly in a state of unease. "Contact Celest, will you? Make sure she's still okay."

Fox offered only a slight frown before re-booting the G-Diffuser system. "Bringer of Chaos, this is the Great Fox. Do you read me?"

No one answered. Falco's anxiety intensified. "Where is she? Why won't she answer?"

"Somebody call?" came Bill's voice, and the three mercenaries shared a quizzical glance. Thankfully the Katinan assassin caught on quickly, because he chuckled and added, "Or were ya lookin' for Celest? Bringer of Chaos has a re-routin' transmission device; if somebody tries to get ahold of her and she's not in her Arwing, it gets sent to me. What do ya need?"

"'Not in her Arwing'?" Falco repeated tensely. "Where's she run off to? Why isn't she at Area 6 with you guys?"

Bill blinked once, uncertain, then said, "Oh . . . didn't she tell ya? She's gone to fight Reivin on Venom."

A nervous, very sickening silence settled darkly upon the mercenaries' hearts. Fox ran a hand down his face and said, "Star Wolf took off hours ago for no reason--"

"--'Pressing matters to attend', Wolf said," Peppy recalled, voice trembling.

"She's been played by that good-for-nothing Frost!" Falco howled, pounding his fist into a wall. "He two-timed her into thinking it would be a fair fight, then he called in Star Wolf for back-up to ensure he wouldn't lose!" He whirled on Fox, eyes wild. "We've got to go after her!"

"We have a more pressing obligation," Fox reminded sullenly, though he was clearly against the idea. "If we back out now, the Cornerian-Zonessian alliance will suffer without us, and any cripple in forces could lose it all at Area 6."

"So we leave her for Frost and Star Wolf?! Look what happened the last time we abandoned her!" exclaimed Peppy, referring to the wreck and follow-up mission in the deserts of Titania.

Bill broke up the escalating feud with a short cough. "I've really got to run, mates, but let me tell ya this--if it was me doiwn there, surrounded by Andross's top five supporters, I can tell ya who'd be the first one to come chasin' after me. And that's countin' all personal matters and battles to be fought; that's no matter what."

* * *

Anilora was more than a little surprised when he recognized the Arwing of Sensenic Morray skirting around near Bill's, fervently attempting to penetrate Venomian defenses and strike at the defense station. Signaling for his pilot to carry on, the Katinan captain quickly moved to the G-Diffuser and asked, "Sensenic, what in the hell are you about?! Why aren't you piloting FrigidFire?"

"My greetings, respectable Captain! Regrettably my post was taken up by Erik, who seemed to crave the comfort of its destructive prowess far more than I." Morray was tailing Bill closely, preparing to sneak through an opening if the assassin found one. "William has been lost, sir."

"W-William has--?"

"Don't say it!" cried Erik, letting loose numerous detonators into patches of concentrated enemy craft. His eyes were emotionless, his facial visage set into cold stone. "No one speak of it now! Too much must be done, and if I again succumb to despair I fear I shall never destroy the battleship responsible for--" Erik clenched his hands around the twin joysticks controlling the magnificent Fortunan starship and squeezed his eyes shut, stubbornly combating grief.

Morray nodded. "The conversation has ended, dear Erik." Coyly the elder Fortunan turned back to Anilora, whose eyes were sad. "Now I am reminded that you, Captain, are doing no one any good hiding out in your cruiser. Haven't you a perfectly good Arwing of your own?"

Bill laughed, albeit briefly. "Join us, Cap'n! We always said if we were gonna go, we'd go out together."

Less than five minutes later the grey Katinan craft could be seen in pursuit of Fury of Katina, calling out, "Reform the defensive lines! All cruisers advance into the red zone; break their primary lines and attack the station!" Then Anilora smiled. "Hiding out in my cruiser, bah. I was waiting for the precise moment to strike!"

Seeking out a certain defensible pattern was not easy, but Anilora found the formation he was looking for and dove in eagerly. Bill and Morray, sensing some upcoming chaos, quickly sped in after him and together the trio launched the first real assault on Area 6. They flew in below the giant, rotating disk of a defensive base, and at Anilora's command they opened fire with a various assortment of weapons. The defenses were considerably weakened (after all, Bolse had been downed a while ago), so all their attacks went through and rattled the intimidating structure.

All through the battle Anilora had been pondering the use of the seemingly ornamental structure precariously built onto the top of the disk; it was a conic-shaped apparatus that appeared to be of no great value. This, unfortunately, proved very false; a beam like lightning struck from the spindly point of the cone, connecting with deadly force with the Katinan captain's Arwing and sending him sideways to bang into the side. Upon impact the craft's systems all aborted, leaving his defenseless, in the dark, and without communications. Yet by some strange design he was not dead, his craft hadn't exploded, and still seemed completely intact. Anilora frowned, confused.

Bill and Morray skittered back a short distance, mouth agape. An electrical current had surrounded Anilora's ship; slowly the beam of white light was tugging their captain toward Area 6!

"A magnetic tracking beam!" Morray observed. "What a clever device . . . how did they manage it?"

"Morray!" Bill scolded. "How do we get rid of it? It's got Gilraen!"

"Get rid of it?" Morray stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, a significant amount of destructive energy ought to do the trick, but we can't cross a certain point or we'll be rendered immobile and captured too."

"Captured?!" Bill shrieked in dismay; surely enough, Anilora's Arwing had disappeared. "Ya failed to mention that!"

"They won't hurt him," Morray reassured, turning around and making a beeline for FrigidFire. "Andross would want to see him first, I expect."

"You expect?!" Bill was almost to the point of explosion. "I don't think ya understand what's just happened--the captain of all Katinan forces, one of Andross's top five most wanted, has just been captured! When Andross sees him, he'll kill him!"

Morray's brow furrowed in anxiety. "Now what did you do that for? You've gone and got me worried!"

* * *

Anilora's curiosity changed rapidly to confusion when he started gliding further away from his comrades, and then to utmost fear when he was wrestled out of his Arwing and marched off deeper into Area 6, surrounded on all sides by Venomian soldiers. His wrists were manacled tightly behind him; every so often he shook them to restore circulation, earning him a crack on the back of the head from one of his captors. Eventually he and his entourage arrived in what seemed to be a briefing room, awaiting the arrival of some Venomian by the name of Rhazed.

Rhazed turned out to be a hulking elk of at least seven feet, brutal horns nearly brushing the ceiling as he stooped his head to enter the room. His hooves clacked menacingly upon the cold cement floor; he halted a foot or so from Anilora, shoving his enormous snout into the frightened captain's face and snuffling a few times. "What have we got here?" he ordered more than asked, voice a malevolent baritone.

"First guy stupid enough to pass in range of the tracking beam," explained one of the guards. "No identification on him--haven't got a clue who he is."

'Thank heaven,' Anilora silently praised. 'They haven't guessed my station! Andross would send for me immediately if told the Katinan captain was in custody in Area 6!'

As Anilora and Rhazed sized one another up a warning siren rent the air; many of the Venomians present clapped hands over their ears. "A thick, northern-accented voice squealed into the intercom, "All reinforcement battalions to the ships! The Cornerian-Zonessian fleet has just exited hyperspace; they've dropped right on us!"

"Precise timing!" the Katinan captain whispered excitedly; Rhazed overheard his words and nailed the smaller human with a heavy punch to his jaw. Dazed, Anilora swooned backward into the rough grasps of his guards, and Rhazed cracked his knuckles and swore.

"Bring him!" he growled viciously, and he strode off down a dark hallway at a rapid pace. Anilora struggled to focus his violet eyes as they dragged him along, but the punch had been solidly dealt and he reeled in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of the blood trickling out the side of his mouth.

His armed sentries threw him haphazardly into a steel cell; there he was manacled to twin chains securely welded to one of the walls. The silhouette of Rhazed the elk filled his cell door, and Anilora barely heard him speak. "A word, if you can hear it. Not all of us are as stupid when it comes to our captives, and the first envoy that can be spared will be taking you straight to Andross--Captain Gilraen Anilora." The door abruptly clanged shut, snuffing out the last remaining light.

"Damnation," Anilora slurred, and he passed out.

* * *

Just as Anilora lost consciousness within Area 6, Celestra's eyes fluttered open on Venom. The first thing she surmised was that she was tightly bound, her hands secured over her head to one of the eight pillars encircling the Altar of Fallen Star. Glancing down she noticed her feet were similarly tied up against the pillar. A single knife was wedged in a crack an inch or two shy of one of the assassin's armpits; she swore and blinked a few times, bringing her vision into focus.

"Oh, Celestra! Magnificent of you to join us," drawled Leon coolly, twirling one of her own butterfly knives between his fingers. "You are perhaps wondering which of us missed? We allowed Pigma to throw the first blade; you'll have to forgive him, he is not accustomed to this art of fighting."

Snickers erupted from behind the chameleon; the other mercenaries and Reivin were grouped pell-mell at his back in a line, looking on in delight.

"However, it is my turn now," Leon continued, readying for the throw. "I never miss, though, so I think I'll call my shot."

"Where will it hit?" Wolf pressed.

"Oh . . . somewhere difficult. Her right ear, I think." With an effortless flick of his wrist Leon sent the blade flying, grazing her right ear as promised. Celestra winced but bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. If this was to be her end, she would give them no satisfaction. To prove that point, she firmed her jaw and eyed the five of them menacingly.

"Try not to waste time if you're going to kill me. I want to be able to find a suitable point in the afterlife from which I can watch all of you burn in hell."

Great peals of laughter echoed back at her at that proclamation; Wolf replaced Leon at the front of the line, cocking Celestra's other butterfly knife. "Cocky to the very end, I see. How disappointing. At any rate, I too will call my throw, and I'll be aiming for your left hipbone." Wolf's blade also found its mark, but thankfully enough it didn't go deep; the tear in her ear was seeping blood down her neck.

Defiantly Celestra spat at them, "I wish I could be around for your long months of torture and public executions when Lylat is freed, you pathetic Seperatists."

Reivin smiled devilishly at her, unearthing the first of her switchblades. "Yes, yes; that's all fine and good, but it's my turn, Celestra. I will be aiming for your wrist, and that could sever any one of several vital veins. This should be interesting, so pay close attention." Carefully sizing up the throw her rival assassin let fly the knife; at the last possible second Celestra twitched her bindings roughly to one side in a desperate attempt to at least lessen the fatality of the blow. Sure enough she succeeded; the knife struck the outside joint of her wrist, sinking in deep and sending blood down her arm, but Reivin was scowling nonetheless. He had expected to slit the tender part of her wrist, a critical blow that would slowly and painfully cause her death.

"Bad luck, Reivin," Leon chuckled, stepping up to the front for his second attempt. "As a professional torturer, I waste little time--right elbow, just above the joint."

The blow struck home; Celestra growled low in the back of her throat and sank her teeth deep into her lip to stifle a scream. This particular wound would quickly become a problem; it was in a weak spot, and blood already spurted freely from it.

As for the five hired killers before her, the sight of unbreakable Celestra Marquette, bound and bleeding helplessly before them, incited sadistic laughter that brought hysterical tears to their eyes. Wolf had to wipe his single electric-blue eye before drawing a wicked dagger of his own and tossing it idly from one hand to the other. Behind him, Pigma and Andrew could not stifle their amusement; Reivin shot them a venomous look, and they grudgingly silenced themselves.

"Game, set, and match," Wolf recited dangerously, savoring the growing pale in the female assassin's cheeks. She couldn't stop her body from trembling, trapped between the sensations of cold, pain, and fear. "The first mortal wound belongs to me, I'm afraid, and I think I'll stick it in your kidney. Try not to despise me too much." With that manic, possessed look lingering in his eye, the lupin cocked his hand for the throw.

Behind the pillar a shot fired, sending the knife spinning end-over-end out of the mercenary leader's hand to fall into the dirt. Wolf looked up in hatred, evidently searching for the assailant, and his face turned ghostly pale as he stumbled a few steps back.

"It's . . . not possible!" he stammered awkwardly.

A soft rumbling echoed across the sky like thunder, and seemingly from the air itself a single Venomian spacecraft dropped down into their midst; in the nick of time the five of them scattered, diving or rolling to all sides. As the ship crashed into a state of slight disorder and the cockpit opened, Slippy poked his head out and cast his gaze about in earnest. "Did I miss anyone?"

Blasters were going off behind Celestra, three in all; armed only with close-combat weapons, having discarded their guns, Reivin and the mercenaries scrambled out of the way and dove behind protective surfaces. Slippy leapt out of the cockpit, firing a gun that left a peculiar cloud of green smoke; Fox, Falco, and Peppy sprinted up in front of the injured assassin. "They were all too quick, unfortunately," answered Peppy with a scowl.

With a few quick shots at her bonds Falco had freed Celestra; she fell limply into Fox's outstretched arms, and with the help of his comrades they all lowered her carefully to the ground.

"Puncture wounds to the ear, hip, elbow, and wrist," Slippy detailed, checking the injuries with a handheld medical device. "The one to her elbow could be fatal if we don't seal it off soon; the wrist harbors no severed arteries or veins, so don't worry about that."

Falco was still on his feet, clutching a pair of laser pistols and waiting for their adversaries to resurface. "You guys are just plain sick!" he shouted at the unseen group, firing at random at all possible hiding places. "I'm even ashamed to call you my enemies!" Fox had just returned from Slippy's spacecraft, arms laden with gauze and tape, and in a somewhat softer voice Falco asked, "She going to be okay, you guys?"

"She should be." Slippy set to work, feverishly swabbing at Celestra's elbow until it was partially clean and hastily wrapping up the wound with surgical tape. "I think she's gone into shock, what with the blood loss and near death experience and all." Tearing off the wrap with his teeth the youngest mercenary sealed the work he had done, focusing now on her wrist. At that moment Reivin rose, dusting off his pants and raising his knives.

"Now, where's the honor in guns?" he taunted Falco, the nearest to him.

The avian tightened his grips on the pistols and leashed a barrage that would have killed a normal man; Reivin ducked down again, merely singed. "Yeah? Well, where's the honor in target practice on a bound, unconscious woman, you twisted psychopath?"

"A valid point," Peppy congratulated, rising to Falco's side and similarly unsheathing his guns. "Gentlemen, I do believe out adversaries lack guns of any kind," Fox pointed out, stepping up to them and whisking a plasma rifle into his hands. "Let's flush them out like the rats they are!" On that note the three Star Fox members took to firing madly everywhere, determined to destroy the opposing team. "Slippy, keep it up on Celestra! We'll cover you!"

Slippy had just finished quickly and thoroughly tending the assassin's four wounds, and was now prying open a small hip flask filled with water. Gently he pulled the cap off and poured a few drops on her forehead, stirring her back into consciousness. Her eyes were blurred and tired, but she blinked a few times, coughed, and murmured his name in recognition.

"Hey, we made it," Slippy told her lighly, holding the flask to her lips so she could drink. "We'll take care of everything from here, okay? You rest now."

As he made to turn away Celestra's hand darted out and clutched his forearm, and he marveled at the surprisingly strong grip from someone who had just come out of shock. She pulled him closer with some effort, fighting against coughing fits, and when his ear was millimeters from her lips she said, "Not Reivin. He's mind, understand?"

Perfectly understanding an act of vengeance when he saw one, Slippy nodded and hurried to his friends' aid, leaving the weakened assassin to rest.

* * *

Celestra closed her eyes, laboriously returning her breathing to a controlled, deep rhythm. The pain and fatigue she felt was beginning to subside, replaced by a bubbling, seething hate the likes of which she had never felt before. It was empty and consuming, like a void into which she had willingly fallen, and she opened her mind, body, and soul to embrace it.

The problem with harboring the Macbethian child inside for so long was that she always felt the conflicting views from the assassin she was now and the girl she was then. Such disability to accept her past had kept her from ever growing at ease with herself and her situation, largely because of her unwillingness to set aside long past tragedy. Now that she had released the influence of the child from her existence, now that the time had come for an action and atonement of some kind, Celestra no longer questioned what she had become.

She was an assassin, a dark angel serving the forces of good for a shot at retribution. When her eyes opened again all the torment and tiredness had evaporated from them, replaced only by a hungry revenge and a demanding hate.

Measuring her course of action Celestra rose, seeming to float effortlessly as she gained her feet and set off across the barren, lifeless Venomian expanse. Her face remained expressionless, her mind a blank and empty slate, her heart the engine that drove her body on its course that led to deliverance. Through it all there stood one task at the moment, one goal that seemed above all others.

Kill Reivin Frost.

Leon had dredged up a blaster from somewhere, and as he was stalking Falco he paused for a second and fired once at her. Celestra inclined her chin a few inches, never one looking at him or the shot, and the beam whizzed harmelessly past. Then at last she turned and fixed him with such a horrible glare that he gasped audibly in trepidation and took one step back. A plasma laser was in her hand before she could even comprehend the action, and she fired once, burying a blast in his right shoulder. The chameleon shrieked and fell back, clutching his wound, and Celestra paid him no more attention.

The other mercenaries were all darting about, fiercely attacking their foes in abandon. She marched determinedly past all of them.

Reivin was standing above a circular pit in the ground when she approached, and upon seeing her he sealed the dark opening quickly. Those knives were in his hands, those wicked blades that had spilled the blood of so many of her and Bill's childhood friends.

She hated him so much.

"Very well," he muttered to her. "Let's end this private war of ours, shall we? You are becoming rather a nuisance, and I tire of dragging this out. Come--put away your guns, draw out your blades, and let us be done with it."

Celestra let her gaze slip to the plasma lasers, marveling at the perfect contour of their grips in her hands. 'Put them away?' she pondered to herself. 'Why? It doesn't matter how this ends, does it? No; only that it ends now.'

She raised the blasters and fired; Reivin screamed, horrified, cursing her lack of honor and the sudden change of heart. She fired until he was panting in the dirt, his blood spilling freely from dozens of burning laser holes. Silently she stalked up to stand over his body, aiming the barrels for his heart.

"What . . . are you?" he gasped out, and his eyes held an incomprehensible fear that sent ripples of pleasure through the female assassin's body.

Celestra pulled the trigger, ending her enemy's baleful existence. Turning away she stated monotonously to his body, "I am the assassin."

* * *

"I don't want to go down there, man; I know who's down there."

Falco was hugging himself in a desperate attempt to shield his anxiety; Slippy knelt, studying the copper plate that sealed off the circular tunnel leading into Venom's core. "It could lead to any number of places, you know, but yes; it'll probably send us straight to Andross."

Fox and Peppy were taking it in turns to study the complete devastation of Reivin Frost's body, then shoot unreadable glances at Celestra. The assassin herself seemed back to normal, arms crossed and staring at the grate with mild interest. Slippy traced his fingers over a tiny keyhole in the center of the tunnel door, then looked up with a frown.

"If we had the key--" Before he was even through with his sentence Celestra dangled a thin silver chain in front of him, the key gifted to her from Captain Anilora hanging from it. Slippy snatched it up gleefully and worked it into the slot, and it swung the grate open with perfect ease. Staring down into the fathomless pit Slippy swallowed hard and stuttered, "I don't know about this, you guys--"

Celestra looped the chain and key back around her neck and tucked it under her shirt, saying, "We can't stop now! We've faced and defeated everything Andross has thrown at us for months, and you guys want to go back?" Leaving that as her parting note the assassin disappeared down the hole with a graceful leap.

"I can't go back," Fox murmured, more to himself than to his fellow mercenaries. "Andross killed my father--I don't have a choice." Tucking his knees up close to his chest the vulpine performed an amusing cannonball dive and fell away out of sight.

Falco uttered a stream of curses, and against his better judgement he stepped up to the desolate opening. "Man . . . if we don't go, they'll never let us hear the end of it, so let's--" Before the avian could finish speaking the grate clanged back over the opening with a bang of finality; Slippy dropped to his knees and rapped frantically with his knuckles, but they were solidly deterred and cut off from their two friends.

"Fox!" Peppy shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to project the sound. "Celestra! Can you hear me?" No reply could be heard beyond the grate; Falco flung himself to the ground in dismay.

"Great," Slippy sighed. "Now what?"

"Jam that key back in there," Falco offered.

"Yeah, okay; Celestra's got it. Any other ideas?"

"Peppy collapsed beside Falco, rubbing his ears, clearly distressed. "Should we wait for them?"

"I don't think that's the best idea." Slippy rattled with the offending copper door once more before running a hand down his face and checking their surroundings. "We're not doing any good to anyone just sitting here; I say we head back out to our Arwings and rejoin the fleet at Area 6. With any luck the general made the hyperspace jump okay, and they're still holding strong."

"You want to leave them here?" asked Falco incredilously, gesturing at the chute.

"Slip's got a point," Peppy put in softly. "Sitting and waiting is no good, especially when there's still a battle to be fought. At least we know Celestra and Fox are alive, and unharmed, and together. We can't help them now."

Falco heaved a sigh and stood up. He truly despised the idea of leaving two of his closest friends anywhere, and if he were to go without them he would certainly not choose Andross's lair within Venom as the place of abandonment. But Slippy and Peppy were right; they had each other, and that counted for something.

"Alright, you win; let's go and give Pepper and Anilora a hand."


	23. Chapter Twenty Two: The Tyrant of Lylat

Chapter Twenty-Two: "The Tyrant of Lylat" 

Under another circumstance the fall down into Andross's underground domain would have been enjoyable; the shaft only dropped straight doiwn for ten feet before curving out steeply into a steel slide. As she fell Celestra could still vaguely see the light from Venom's surface, but the further down she traveled the more dim things became. At last the chute opened up into a small, torchlit chamber, spilling the assassin out onto a rug strewn with moldy hay. The braziers that gave light to the cavern were more than a little ominous, for the fire burned a mysterious blue and was set into a figure of a spindly hand with great claws.

A rustle wafted up to her ears from behind, and she side-stepped the hay; Fox slid out of the chute and landed unceremoniously on his rump.

"I heard pounding," he informed her, straightening and peering uneasily back up the shaft. "And I can't see the light anymore . . ."

"For some reason the grate must have sealed off the entrance again," Celestra hypothesized, pounding one fist into her outstretched palm. "I've got the key, so the others are stuck up there."

"You mean we're stuck down here," Fox corrected darkly.

Celestra withdrew her plasma laser guns and started off to the other end of the chamber. "Sure, if you want to be pessimistic. Anyway, Andross must have been keeping surveillance on that chute and didn't expect us to find a way in. When we did, he probably sealed it shut again." Her boots were silent as death as she padded up to the next door, carefully inspecting it for traps. When none presented themselves she threw her weight behind the heavy door and the two of them pressed into the next room.

It was only a single, narrow hallway that ended in a blindingly bright, cubic room. Cautiously the alert pair made their way to it until they were in the center of the chamber, squinting around cluelessly.

As they stood dumbfounded an adamantite door sprang up from the floor, blocking them within the cube and snuffing out the overbearing light. Before either of them could speak the cube set to spinning both horizontally and vertically, sending Celestra and Fox tumbling helplessly into each other, the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Their screams echoed off the closed-in walls, but just when they were both at the point of nausea the whirling structure ended its tirade, prostrating them limply on the floor. The lights clicked back on, this time illuminating four corridors around them.

"Welcome, Marquette, McCloud," boomed a low, deep voice quavering with amusement. "I will take this opportunity to inform you that I greatly despise intruders, and the two of you were already in my highest disfavor."

Celestra and Fox drunkenly regained their stances, weapons at the ready in shaking hands as they peered all around for the speaker. "Where are you hiding, Andross?!"

"Oh, I am closer than you think." That vague answer caused the mercenary leader to swallow hard. "Welcome to Venom's City Proper, but I like to call it the Maze of Indecision. There are, as you can see, four paths you can choose to tread--one leads you back to where you came, one leads to the Eyes of Fire, one leads to the Gate of Despair, and the last will bring you straight to my private audience hall, where I shall wait patiently for your arrival. Split up, stay together, choose correctly, or choose poorly--I care not for your decisions from this point forward, for your deaths are ensured regardless." The voice of Andross faded away then, so the pair assumed he was gone--for the time being.

"Well, I can rule out the right-hand passageway," Celestra began confidently, treading a few steps closer to the entrance and pointing at a small black scuff mark on the floor. "I placed that with my boot when we entered, just in case something went wrong; that way leads us back to the entrance."

Fox turned his eyes on the path behind, the path in front, and the path to his left slowly in turn. "Eyes of Fire, Gate of Despair . . . what do you suppose those are?"

The assassin shrugged indifferently. "Probably two odd means of killing intruders." She grinned sardonically and replaced her weapons on her belt. "There's no ingenius way to decide . . . shall we separate, or move on together?"

"I'm all for sticking with you. If the others had made it through the grate we could go in pairs, but I'd rather fight Andross with you and not alone."

"Agreed." Celestra had already decided that coming against the Tyrant of Lylat single-handedly did not sound desirable at all. She, too, set to weighing their options; heaving a great sigh she extricated two matching coins from the Katinan currency system from a pouch on her vest and handed one to Fox. "Alright; we'll flip for it."

Fox ogled at her. "You want to flip for this?! Are you mental?!"

Celestra chose not to answer that, asking instead, "You got a better idea? Look--one head, one tail, and we'll go left; two heads we go forward, and two tails we go back."

The mercenary leader counted off three on his fingers, and they tossed the coins; Celestra's came up tails, and so did Fox's. "Right," she continued, pocketing the coins again and turning around. "Back it is."

"I can't believe we just flipped coins to decide which direction to go in a Venomian maze created by Andross."

"Can it, Fox."

* * *

Captain Anilora was rudely awakened by a slap in the face and a rough tug or two on his manacles. A pair of Venomians were very nervously unclasping his crude bindings from the chains that kept him anchored to the wall; Rhazed was hurrying them along with violent shouts in some foreign language the Katinan didn't know. Apparently Rhazed's abnormal speech was merely a by-product of his fear, for a moment later he was speaking English again.

"Hurry it along, lads! No time to waste! This is the last envoy to make it through the barrier before we turn up the juice! MOVE IT!"

With a shove Anilora was out the door, marched at a grueling pace down the hallway and toward a remote docking bay on the northern side of Area 6. He managed to catch snippets of rapid conversation and discerned a few things: General Pepper's fleet had indeed succeeded in traveling through hyperspace, and their reinforcements had bolstered the weakening triad when all hope seemed lost. 'Some crazy old white fox' was clearly in command of the triad in Anilora's absence, and he knew that could only be Sensenic Morray. Most disturbing of all the captain learned Celestra and the Star Fox mercenaries were exempt from the siege entirely.

The northern docking bay led the small, insignificant cruiser out of the battle unnoticed, for the battle was taking place on the south side of the defense station and so no pilot flew elsewhere. Anilora was discarded in a slightly larger prison cell and forgotten, but his cell commanded a single small window through which he could clearly see Venom, growing larger with every passing moment.

Two hours before reaching their destination Rhazed came into the cell, crossing his arms smugly over his well-muscled torso and rattling off protocol to the Katinan captain, who was only half-listening. When the burly elk-Venomian grew tired of his prisoners' lack of attentiveness he abruptly seized the much smaller man and pinned him against the wall, feet dangling many inches off the floor. "Now you listen here, you little runt! You might be thinkin' you're all high and mighty now, but your attitude better change before we make it to Andross's place! If I have to break you in half, I will, you understand me?!"

The bruise coming to a head on the Katinan's chin throbbed violently, but he narrowed his violet eyes and answered evenly, "I have been put through far too much of late to be hanging here bandying words with you, Rhazed. Better folk than me are out there tonight suffering far worse fates, and so I will not worry for my own. Your threats fall upon deaf ears, and if I must die this very night at the hands of Andross, I shall. Now release me--I must prepare a speech for your superior with the proper amount of loathing in it, and you will only distract me."

Rhazed did not appreciate Anilora's dry humor at all; quite the contrary he re-doubled his efforts on the captain's jaw before again leaving him in a dazed heap. When he was certain his captor was gone Anilora dragged himself to the window and clung to it weakly as long as he could.

"Where are you, Celestra?" he murmured sadly. "Although you are greatly needed elsewhere, I cannot help but wish you were here."

* * *

Navigating even one branch of the maze proved to be slow and trying work; Andross had obviously placed great emphasis on the construction of Venom's City Proper over the many years of his tyrannical rule. The Maze of Indecision was immense, complete with walls that were impossible to blast through with their weapons (because of course that was the first thing they tried) and a limitless ceiling their eyes could not glimpse. In addition the lighting was rather poor, nearly dark save the occasional torch in a sconce protruding from a wall. Celestra led the way, plasma lasers in hand, gracefully sidestepping each corner and always advancing weapons first. Fox came along two steps behind, eyes darting vigilantly every which way, the plasma rifle buzzing easily with barely contained energy in his hands. Twenty minutes or more they slowly but steadily pressed forward, until Celestra halted suddenly and motioned for the mercenary to pause.

"There's something up ahead," she muttered in a low voice, and although it had been a difficult night for her Fox took note of the determined glint that flashed briefly in her eyes. With a nod of her head, Celestra led them forward.

The maze widened out into a dim cavern, also with an unfathomable ceiling lit only by two braziers burning blue fire. Celestra squinted into the gloom, trying to sort through the myriad of mundane fog and shadows, and then the firelight fell gently upon the smooth, glassy surface of--

"A mirror?" asked Fox incredulously, and the pair subconsciously lowered their weapons.

Celestra advanced another step, sharing the vulpine's initial reasoning, but at second glance she wasn't so sure. It was a mirror, true enough, sitting on great clawed feet of white ivory and taller than they were, but the assassin stood not six feet from the oval-shaped reflective glass and could not see herself in it; only a milky-white fog swirled lazily in its depths. Strange Venomian runes were scrawled deeply into the rim crowning the mirror; Celestra, who commanded a strong grasp of many Lylatian languages, hadn't a clue what the thin sketches meant.

Somewhere within the smoky haze a light flickered, a lone star in a blanket of black; Celestra focused on it, and all at once the fog lifted.

Dim images flitted across the glass like snippets from a movie, and Celestra gazed back blearily, eyes glossy, seemingly warm and vaguely content. Her body felt weightless, sluggish, as if she had just sank into a pleasantly hot bath. The fragments formed coherent pictures then, embodying her darkest and most private fears.

Captain Anilora was sprawled stomach-first on a polished black-marble floor, soaked in a dark red-black of fading vitality; a cry of agony escaped him before he was smote to death by some unseen force. The picture contorted into Bill, his body in a limp heap at Leon Powalski's feet; she was bound upon the Altar of Fallen Star, and the mercenaries she so trusted had turned their backs on her torment and started away into the mist. And there was Reivin Frost, teasing her with those cruel knives, savoring her every whimper as she begged him to ease her passing.

Some incomprehensible voice in her mind wheedled that something was amiss, but the comfortable vessel that was her lame body refused to react. She was trapped inside her traitorous body, screaming to be released, condemned to view the video that was her most secret horror realized. Twin shadowy tendrils wafted from the mirror's surface, morphing into translucent hands that grasped her head forcefully and drew her forward.

All was so peaceful and nondescript, though, and Celestra didn't even want to move.

The images shifted and became more corporeal; Slippy was kneeling on the floor, cradling Keil Ford in his arms, damp with the coyote's blood; Erik Nioxin was screaming and bawling into Sensenic Morray's chest, and this contorted into the image of William's Arwing exploding into fragments. Then there was Anilora, clutching his chest and laboring for breath at the feet of a brutish elk Venomian; tears were streaming down her cheeks, but no emotion showed on her face for she was rendered immobile.

Those shimmering see-through hands were glowing, promising sleep unhindered, and they began to steal her life energy away.

Behind and slightly to the right of Celestra, Fox was not in full scope of the mirror, thus was beyond its enigmatic tricks. He asked several nonchalant questions before he really understood that the assassin wasn't just ignoring him--she couldn't hear him at all. Gently the mercenary leader called out to her, reaching out to place a trembling hand on her shoulder.

Celestra turned to face him, eyes glittering a penetrating laser-red. Her switchblades came up into her hands, and with a snarl she plunged one of them into the meat of Fox's forearm. Howling in pain and surprise Fox wrenched free, drawing a long adamantite-encrusted knife from his belt and raising it in a defensive posture in front of him.

"What are you doing?!" he shrieked at her. "It's me, Fox! You know me!"

The assassin's face was as cold as a block of stone; with a predatory air she advanced steadily, and the vulpine knew he was in trouble. Clearly Celestra wasn't in her right frame of mind, and seemed very likely to attack again; Fox also knew that, should the encounter come to blows, he did not stand a chance. She came at him in a swift array of thrusting motions, all of which he sidestepped with barely a thought. It was a fighting style completely bereft of her natural prowess with blades; it was forced and straight-forward where normally it was fluid and graceful. Fox ducked under a sweeping motion meant to cleave his skull in two, then came to the conclusion that this was not Celestra at all.

"Don't you remember me?" he asked hurriedly, dancing about doggedly. "I'm a mercenary! I lead Star Fox! You know everyone--Falco, Slippy, Peppy--"

Still Celestra came on, cutting madly at the air, an action that seemed more automatic than planned.

"--Morray! And Bill!" A flicker of the dimmest recognition shimmered in her eyes briefly; the assassin growled and continued to work her blades, but she was no longer pressing so hard. "Anilora! You remember him, don't you Celest? Anilora cares about you--he wouldn't want you to do this!"

The knives fell from her hands to clatter to the floor, but her fists were clenching at empty air as though searching for some other weapon. Fox sheathed his knife. "Don't leave me now, Celestra--we've got to take care of Andross first. Come back!"

With a violent shudder the red spark left the icy depths of her eyes; the shadowy hands released Celestra, and she swooned. Fox caught her and pulled her in tightly to his chest, pinning her arms to her sides to keep her from lashing out again. She shuddered involuntarily; Fox whispered, "Shh . . . it's over now."

"Well done, both of you." Celestra and Fox turned their eyes upward, but once again it was merely Andross's voice. "You have just defeated the traitorous wiles of the Gate of Despair. Only one other before you did so without losing his life--I am, of course, referring to James McCloud."

"Shut up!" shouted Fox, helping Celestra to right herself.

"My ingenious gate does two things--it shows a number of falsified images that mirror one's secret fears, and it can also give glimpses of very real tragedies." A string of booming laughter echoed, so loud the dust under their feet rose in clouds. "What was fake--and what was real?"

"Prepare well, Andross!" Celestra cried, head thrown back as she barked angrily at the sky, slender body shaking with fury. "Prepare well--I'm coming for YOU!"

* * *

Falco proudly swerved into the point of the loose triangle formation, leading his fellow mercenaries back toward the distant melee taking place at Area 6. Logic told him that Celestra and Fox would be fine without them--he had seen how self-sufficient and capable they could be on numerous occasions--but the fear remained in a dark corner of his heart. It was time for the end game; they were no longer considering necessary steps to take, for they had just taken their last. His two dear friends were in, were there, and had nowhere else to go but to Andross.

For a moment the thought churned his stomach, but the sensation passed momentarily. Shaking his head he compelled himself to say something witty and sarcastic, his customary response to uncomfortable situations. "You know what's not fair? Celestra and Fox are going to be the heroes when they kill Andross, and what do we get out of this? We're just three more guys in the fray!"

Neither of his comrades answered outright; Peppy forced a half-hearted chuckle, and Slippy issued a sigh. The avian fell silent.

Not ten minutes later Falco's G-Diffuser started blinking the 'incoming transmission' signal, and Falco connected to it without any real interest. Lack of action fatigued him, and he was now looking forward to reaching the battlefield. Bill's voice flooded his cockpit, harsh and demanding all at once.

"Falco, listen, I've got a job for ya."

"Nice try, Bill, but you know we only listen to Pepper--"

"Forget Pepper," Bill interrupted snappishly. "You're gonna listen to me now. Have you seen any small, single Venomian envoys headed away from the fight?"

"No." Falco's brows drew together in a frown. "Why?"

"One of them's headin' right in your direction, and Cap'n Anilora's on board! Don't fire on any enemy craft you may come across, got it?!"

"Whoa, wait just a second! How did those sleazy Venomians get ahold of Anilora?!" In their respective Arwings Slippy and Peppy perked up in alarm at this news.

"That doesn't matter, Falco, just get him back unharmed!" With that Bill promptly terminated the communications link connecting them. Falco turned to his wingmates.

"Well, you heard Bill. Pepper's specific instructions were to aid the fleet in the best way possible, and I'm thinking that this qualifies as important. So let's go find Anilora!" Boosting his engines the avian spurred them into greater speed and led them off, urgently now in the face of their vital task.

* * *

Every so often Anilora could hear footsteps in the hall outside and he would drop the chains connecting his manacles to the wall as a precautionary measure; after Rhazed's brutality for his smart remarks, who knew how his captors would respond to an escape attempt? The captain could say one good thing for the Venomians, though: they lacked the finesse of talented strategists, and he supposed that would work in his favor. Rhazed had confiscated his favorite blaster, true enough, but sometimes a more subtle approach served just as well.

Ten minutes after being discarded in his dirty cell Anilora had risked unearthing a tiny switchblade from the padding inside his boot; for the past quarter of an hour he had been fiddling with the weapon in the locks of his bonds, pausing every so often to ensure no real threat loomed outside his cell door. Only echoing footsteps could be heard now, and neither Rhazed nor any other Venomian had shown their face in quite some time. Was he foolish to hope they had forgotten about him?

That was irrelevant; if a dozen security cameras were filming his every move he still had to try! Every minute he struggled brought Venom into a closer perspective, and Anilora had never wanted to be even this close! He was certain Andross was eagerly awaiting his arrival by now; there would be no more delays. It was time to make a run for it, no matter the outcome.

'How many dozens of heroic deeds have my closest friends performed, risking their own lives with barely a thought?' Anilora wondered to himself. 'It is my turn to defy what is logical. Let them punish me! I will not place my friends in further danger.'

Voices floated up from the other side of the door; uttering a curse Anilora again released the chains and hid the switchblade, listening with bated breath. Gradually the voices faded away down the hall, and the Katinan captain continued his work.

By now his wrists were both chafed raw, but it hardly mattered; he was en route to Venom, and Andross would surely kill him. A slight pang of desperation took him at the thought and he jammed the tiny blade as far into the lock as it would go. An explosion of pain shot through his wrist; blood dripped down his arm, but the tumblar slid aside and his left manacle fell to the stone floor with a dull clatter.

A hush came down in the hallway beyond, and Anilora moved in a rush as footsteps audibly neared.

The cell door creaked open in protest, and a bat-winged, bug-faced Venomian peered inside. The human lay unconscious on the floor, still securely bound as he had been upon entrance. Rhazed's instructions were to guard the door and to keep the human shackled up at all times; with a shrug the sentry backed out of the cell, slamming the door behind him.

Anilora sat up again and shook off one of his manacles, which he had cleverly replaced but not latched shut. Next he set to work on his right bond; after a few more minutes of struggle he rose, free of physical confinement, and glared at the door barring any further passage. He knew there was some manner of deadbolt keeping him from moving much further, but he had a risky plan that may award him with some blind luck. Taking up the chains he planted his feet and whipped the coiled metal at the walls and floor, causing such a tumult that the whole ship could hear him! Presently a shout was heard and a hurried footsteps cadence approached; just before the door opened he tossed the chains aside, took up his small knife, and tucked the blade up against the inside of his wrist, concealing it from view.

The cell door banged back off its hinges and the ugly buglike Venomian poked his face inside, wearing an expression of deep irritation. In his hands he clasped a long coil of wickedly-sharp barbed wire that had a rusty appearance, and Anilora flinched at the sight of it. The mere fact that his enemy carried a weapon at all complicated things a bit; the Katinan would have to pray he proved the quicker.

"What the devil do you think you're doing in here?!" snapped his captor, tone of voice promising agony if he gave a wrong answer.

"I beg pardon for disturbing you," Anilora began, voice as calm and even as he could make it. "Somehow I seem to have escaped from my bonds; I was wondering if perhaps you could help me equip them?"

The Venomian had advanced two steps before realization dawned on him; Anilora let fly his only weapon, not with any skill but from sheer panic. Luck was with him, though, for the blade caught his adversary in the jugular and he crumpled to the ground with barely a sound. Anilora darted forward and intercepted the door before it shut again.

Cautiously he peered down the hall; since the raging chains had ceased, there wasn't a soul in sight. For a moment he even considered towing the barbed wire with him as an additional weapon, but deemed it too loud and detrimental to his progress. Quietly Anilora retrieved his switchblade and slipped into the vacant corridor beyond, darting off in a direction he hoped would lead him to the docking bay.

The battered Katinan captain's escape was stealthy and swift, made simpler from observing Celestra at work on numerous occasions. He clung to shadows for cover as he thought the assassin herself might until he arrived at an important-looking door and pulled it open, daring to believe he had been successful.

The door opened into the central control room, which was swarming with Venomians.

Anilora started backing out as silently as possible, but he bumped into someone coming in from behind; he turned, and there loomed Rhazed, brandishing the length of barbed wire he had left behind. With nowhere to go, he raised his knife and prepared for battle.

"You're a clever little rat, bustin' outta that cell and makin' it this far," Rhazed complimented gruffly, advancing slowly and menacingly into the control room. "But the jailbreak ends here, I'm afraid, so come along nicely and you won't lose any teeth."

"Never," Anilora gritted fiercely, and he took a trial swipe at the elk-Venomian to measure his reflexes. "At any rate, you won't take me alive. If you think Andross will be pleased when you deliver him my lifeless body, then let it be so."

Rhazed tipped the strike away with the back of his hand; the blade ripped through the flesh, but he never even flinched. Anilora cried out a dove into a closer range, attacking with desperate abandon. He didn't care that his adversary was twice his size, or that he was already exhausted, or that his hope had nearly run out; he did know Andross's knack for manipulation, however, and refused no matter what to place his friends' lives in peril.

Anilora was clumsy with hand-to-hand combat, more suited to laser technology and the like; Rhazed lightly sidestepped the stroke and met Anilora's abdomen with a devastating knee-thrust. The Katinan's knife left his grasp as he covered himself with his arms, mouth agape in a silent scream; his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor.

Rhazed lifted the barbed wire in satisfaction.

* * *

"How about a rousing game of paper, rock, scissors?"

Celestra slumped to the ground with a weak laugh, covering her face with her hands. "And you objected to my flipping coins idea?" she muttered through her fingers.

Fox heaved a sigh and slouched to the floor beside the assassin. "No. I'm just trying to broaden our horizons. Next time we can play bubblegum or something."

"Hilarious." Celestra turned her dark gaze to the sky, brooding silently before adding, "I don't think there will be a next time, Fox."

"I know."

"Any regrets?"

"Just one; I never got to tell the guys how proud I am of them." Fox smiled with nostalgia and looked over at his only companion. "What about you?"

"Also just one." Celestra climbed back to her feet, eyes gazing at the ominously dark corridor looming before them. "I never got to tell Gilraen that I love him."

No more words were spoken; together Celestra and Fox set off ahead into the gloom that awaited them, fully prepared and expecting the very worst.

* * *

Subconsciously the assassin and mercenary felt the close hall widen on both sides; Celestra pressed her hand to Fox's forearm, wordlessly warning him to be on his guard. They drew closer to one another, weapons unsteady in nervous hands, hearts pounding anxiously in their chests. Beneath their feet the stone floor became padded and pleasantly plush to walk upon, like some pampered carpet or a rug.

Still they advanced, far too terrified to continue but even more frantic at the thought of going back.

With a dramatic puff of air blue sparks of flame flared to life within wall sconces, bringing a large, octagonal-shaped room into sharper focus; the carpet of black velvet beneath their feet ended abruptly a few feet away at the foot of a coldly elegant throne of purest onyx. For only a moment a pair of malevolent red eyes gleamed like twin lasers from the shadows not so far away, and the two were lifted from their feet and guided forward by a commanding unseen force.

Stopping abruptly in midair they came face-to-face with the greatest enemy of all the free peoples of Lylat, and he glared back at the intruders in all his horrible splendor. The force suspending them was too powerful to defeat, but they were just as soon deposited upon the floor at his feet, surrounded by maniacal laughter and staring into the face of their worst fear realized.

Here they stood at last, finally in the presence of Andross, the Tyrant of Lylat.


	24. Chapter Twenty Three: Faith

Chapter Twenty-Three: "Faith" 

"Welcome, my admirable adversaries, to my humble home. At last we meet face-to-face."

Andross was nearly eight feet tall, with a body rippling with excess muscle that bulged against coal-black skin. A mane of wavy hair white as snow cascaded down to his shoulders, kept whisking about in a breeze that seemed to flow freely in the chamber. An olive-green cape swirled about his ankles, and those terrifying ruby-red eyes seemed to laugh silently at them as they struggled to rise. An aura seemed to pulse from his very being, surrounding them, pressing in from all sides, suffocating any hopes of escape. Andross crossed his arms over his thick, muscular chest, and the amused grin drastically turned down into a savage frown of loathing.

"Come, come, don't be so morose," he insisted, taking his seat in the magnificent onyx throne again but never removing his piercing gaze from them. "I can spare a bit of idle conversation before we end this business once and for all. I will warn you, though--soon I may be forced to entertain yet another guest, so we shall have to speed things up to honor him."

"Oh?" Celestra's hands were crossed low over her belt, fingers brushing lightly against her laser guns but similarly never taking her eyes off Andross. "Who are you torturing today?"

"It's ironic that you should ask, my dear Celestra, because it is Captain Anilora who will be gracing us with his presence." Andross carefully measured the effect his proclamation had on the assassin, and was very annoyed indeed when she showed not a single spark of panic!

"You're a liar," Fox piped in, grasping the plasma rifle in both hands aggressively.

"Believe what you will, son of James. I daresay Peppy couldn't believe it when I killed your father--ignorance must run in the family."

Fox's eyes filled with rage, and he lifted the rifle; Celestra stepped in front of him smoothly, guns still in their holsters, face carefully adamant. "It doesn't matter what he says," she began flatly. "Nothing is going to change what happens now that we're here; that was pre-determined."

Andross offered a condescending smirk, wordlessly honoring the logic. "Quite correct. You see, Fox, Celestra has brought everything into perspective for you. Let me explain--the galaxy of Lylat set up its grand chessboard many years ago, when you were too young to understand even the concept of war. For the longest time it seemed I held your king--Pepper, obviously--in checkmate, but then his as-yet-unseen queen--" Andross offered a nod of recognition Celestra's way, and she spread her hands to acknowledge it. "--Stepped in and meddled in affairs she did not belong in. Her annoying little knights--Anilora and Bill--continued to be a constant irritation for me, and her castles and bishops--your mercenary squad--forced a play I did not expect and joined her. Throw in a few pawns from Fortuna and Zoness, and Celestra Marquette successfully rescued Aronius Pepper from the jaws of defeat, rallied, and turned the meager defenses from the Loyalist rabble into a full-blown advance.

"And so here we stand, all other pieces swept from the board, to fight the final battle for lordship of Lylat."

Celestra's attention fell to Andross's right hand, with its fingers clenching and unclenching inconspicuously at his side. Something was shimmering in the palm of his hand, obvious in the dim firelight; it was a pale, diamond-shaped turquoise gem, sparkling with potential. The assassin hadn't a clue what the jewel could do, but knew that if Andross used it in any way it would not be a good one. Slowly loosening her plasma guns in their sheaths she whispered coldly, "Maybe a totalitarian galactic society is what you're after, Andross, but that's not what we're here for. It's time for you to step down--and give Lylat's people the freedom they deserve!"

Fox anticipated the sudden movement and dove to one side, coming up in a roll with the rifle ready in his hands; Andross lifted his hand, brandishing the gem, and a beam of smoky, pale white energy lanced from the shiny surface.

The assassin was only mildly surprised and not much caught off-guard; the muscles in her legs tensed and she dove, simultaneously bringing her twin weapons to bear and firing off a few shots in midair. Andross didn't even need to dodge or deflect, for with a flaring of the malicious red in his eyes the shots winked out of existence fully eight feet from their target. Celestra didn't relent, coming up on one knee to attack again, and as she did Andross gestured with both hands to return the assault.

But Celestra was magnificent with her weapons of choice; both hands moving independently she deflected each of the Venomian lords' beams with her own and still managed to play the offensive. Taking advantage of the energy exchange Fox cocked the plasma rifle and fired.

The concentrated ball of energy passed just over Celestra's shoulder, but something was clearly amiss; as it neared Andross the velocity decreased rapidly, until at last the orb hung uselessly suspended before them. Andross was cackling maniacally, and with a casual flick of his wrist he sent the orb hurtling back toward the mercenary leader. Fox gaped, cornered, and the energy blast blindsided his rifle, sending it spiraling from his hands with a sting.

Celestra pressed forward, not glancing back to check on her only comrade and praying he would rise to help her soon. As she rushed at Andross she lifted her weapons, firing away again, and a few moments later energy passed around her as Fox joined in. Andross just stood there, sneering, his arms crossed; with a growl of impatience and frustration the assassin fired repeatedly from a point-blank range.

Everything slowed to an eerie stop, a dozen or so lasers suspended in midair between them. Celestra felt a force tugging at the lasers, and although she clutched them with all her might they flew from her hands. Her boots left the floor, and the assassin struggled under the pressure of something powerful preying on her body and levitating her into the air.

She was eye-level with Andross when he snickered in superiority, and suddenly she was carreening backwards. A gasp escaped her lips as she connected painfully with a wall at the rear of the chamber, and she slid down to collapse in a numb haze.

Fox knelt to help her to her feet, and Andross towered over them both in a roar of laughter. "Poor little fools," he murmured softly and poisonously. "You know nothing of the evil you now face, nor the enormity of your mistake in coming here. Understand that today, the faith of all Loyalists dies with you!"

The wisps of torchlight were swept away, and the throne room plunged into darkness.

* * *

"Form up!" cried Sensenic Morray in a livid fury. "Form up!"

Ragged lines of Katinan, Fortunan, and Aquan soldiers buzzed to join his Arwing, and as General Pepper's commander-in-chief glanced around at them all he did not see Bill, Katt, or even his cruiser piloted by Erik anywhere. Far off in the distance loomed Vortex Four; General Pepper was literally screaming orders over the radio.

The Loyalists were suffering greatly under the emotional weight afforded by Anilora's kidnap. Hope dwindled out of the eyes of once-proud warriors, and if not for the addition of the Cornerian and Zonessian forces from their journey through hyperspace their end would have already come. Heavier still came the blows in the absence of Celestra and the four ever-stoic mercenaries; word was already sweeping around that Keil and William were dead in battle. Sensenic Morray rose to the challenge and the panic, stretching himself thinner still in the face of need.

"Whatever the outcome, I shall make you proud of me, Gilraen," Morray swore under his breath. Then, to his followers, he roared, "Onward with me! To the station!"

They surged forward, assaulting a common enemy, sweeping up through the center behind the Fortunan commander and billowing up within range of the spindle tracking beam. The device worked madly to catch the intruders, but there were far too many and everywhere Loyalist warriors were slipping through the defenses and into the weak underbelly area of the commanding Venomian defense station. Morray himself skirted through and made a quick dive for the unguarded underside, reaching it before most of his companions and opening fire without hesitation.

As far as he could tell his shots didn't cause damage to the structure at all, but with a few seconds of quick typing he summonded a small guage to a corner of his G-Diffuser screen, carefully monitoring the strength of the defensive shields encompassing the Venomian station. Perhaps one-tenth of the guage was empty, and Morray heaved a sigh; they had a long way to go.

Continuous laser fire passed closely past the flanks of his compact Fortunan Arwing, and boosting up the thrusters Morray sped away, out of the tracking beam's radius and back toward the mass of spacecraft. His pursuers were persistent, though; glancing back over his shoulder he counted seven of the Venomians, all tailing mercilessly with firepower at maximum. Morray turned a few barrel rolls as they closed in, and the move deflected the attacks but only bought him time. Gritting his teeth the Fortunan commander-in-chief sped up and turned sharply to the left, far too slow--

--Bill swept in from above, Katt from the right, and with fire in their eyes they closed in to annihilate Morray's assailants. Never pausing to look back the Fortunan pressed onward, trusting the pair shadowing him to take care of any further threat, and as if to justify that faith they soon swept up on either side and chased him back toward the station.

"You're mad, Sensenic!" Katt cried at him, skimming his left flank and firing upon any she could catch. "If you get any closer to the tracking device they'll catch you, too!"

Bill's eyes were narrowed with intensity. "We can't afford to lose anyone else, Doc!"

At first Morray didn't answer, merely contented himself with circling the spindly tracking device decorating the pinnacle of the enemy station like some precious ornament as some poor Aquan wandered too close. The pilot's agonized screams resounded over the radio as the iridescent beam lanced away at his craft, and although those cries rent the Fortunan's heart severely he did notice something of great importance. The device, while seeking new prey throughout its fixed radius, moved so quickly that none possessed the reflexes necessary to destroy it. But with a captive in its paralyzing grasp the onyx spire remained absolutely motionless.

"An an answer presents itself," he murmured softly, and slightly altering his flight course he struck up a conversation with his two companions. "Answer me this, respectable comrades--if Gilraen were here, you would do anything he commanded of you, would you not?"

Through the G-Diffuser screen Bill and Katt exchanged a curious glance, then Bill admitted, "Of course we would."

"Spectacular. Do follow me." Morray led them in a tight circuit around the underside of the station, still studying the gruesome eradication of the Aquan tangled within the tracking beam. Now he was attempting to time the stripping process from the moment of contact to the actual ship combustion; when the Arwing at last imploded and sank down into the darkness of deep space he snuck around to the head of the battle again, sickeningly satisfied with the results. "As he second-in-command, can I trust you to award me the same liberty of order?"

"Just what are ya about?" Bill accused nervously, for he had only just noticed the arctic fox's normally jubilant sapphire eyes fixed on the spacecraft exoskeleton in some kind of grim realization.

"Listen very closely, Mr. Grey and Miss Monroe--the instant the tracking device has singled out a craft too close to its defensive radius, it will obviously become aggressive. When it seeks and strikes one ship, though, it stops moving completely." Morray hastily double-checked a time readout before him. "You'll have exactly twenty seconds to completely destroy the spire harboring the device once I have penetrated its protective field and it has fired on me."

The expressions of horror he received in response proved the pair of them understood well enough. "That's ridiculous, Doctor!" shouted Katt in a passionate protest. "It's far too dangerous; we won't let you do it!"

Morray smiled despite himself. "My dear, I am nearly thirty. I don't believe I require any permission of yours." He glanced over at Bill, who seemed disinclined to protest but very distraught by the idea. "Do not grieve so, my friends. Captain Anilora will return unharmed, and Celestra and all the others too; until that time, however, I order you to have faith."

The Fortunan's Arwing was speeding away into the danger zone before they could even begin to protest, and with a silent curse and a prayer Bill split away from Katt and reversed his direction to double back with the spire in his sights. The feline, too, sprang into action, taking a slightly different path under the circular disk of a space station and coming up opposite Bill, warming her lasers nervously.

Not feeling entirely courageous but understanding his role in this desperate gamble, Morray recklessly penetrated the invisible field that marked the attack radius of the tracking beam. Almost instantly the beam sensed his presence and leaped out to intercept him, striking his craft with devilish eagerness. A white-hot sensation flooded his consciousness, searing his every nerve with the contact and possessing his body with a mercilessly cold pain. Trembling, barely coherent, struggling to keep his eyes open, Morray forced his hands to grip the spacecraft's joysticks with all his might, and slowly, excruciatingly, he urged the Arwing into a state of perfect motionlessness. Clenching his teeth and squinting his eyes he found he could not speak for all the effort it took just to keep from crying out; a jolt like lightning bolted up his spine, snapping his body rigid, and he knew nothing outside the pain.

Bill and Katt surged forward from opposite directions, eyes fixed on the unmoving spire and the Arwing outlined against perpetual blackness like fire. The assassin came in strong, barrel-rolling past a dozen rogue Venomians and shooting down another three in his path before falling short before a mad assault of dazzling plasma lancing away from Interstellar Commander Two. Sputtering violet expletives he spun around into a somersault, only to find himself similarly cornered by a retaliatory volley from the temporary pilot of Whitewater. Katt's compact Zonessian Arwing squeezed through a nondescript opening Bill couldn't even see before one of her wings was clipped and she hurled away from her flight path, screaming in defeat.

Morray screamed at last, a helpless, pleading sound that ripped from his aching lungs; tears stung Bill's petrified eyes, and he watched in devastation as another dear friend was slowly beginning to burn before his eyes.

MOEC answered the desperate calls of its comrades, firing its third of ten rounds from a distance so great it seemed useless to even attempt the shot. But Erik Nioxin was as good a pilot as any of the men on the battlefield, and by some miracle the electron cannonfire obliterated the enemy tracking device. His body seemingly on fire Morray dipped out of the line of fire of nearly twenty Venomian craft targeting him, and somehow he even managed to fire off a few rounds of his own that freed Bill and Katt from similarly helpless ordeals.

"The tracking device has been destroyed!" called a shaken but victorious Sensenic Morray. "Attack the station's defensive shields at will, and from any range!"

Ragged lines of Katinans swarmed up from below, unloading with everything they had left, and Bill and Katt dove back to the forefront. Venomian cruisers matched the goodly forces' starships blow for blow, keeping them at bay while Arwings buzzed about the damaged space station in an attempt to exhaust the defensive shields. Erik Nioxin nodded to his comrades and turned about, focusing his efforts again on the crippled and smoking Interstellar Commander Two.

"I hope you're listening," he murmured in an eerily calm tone, again summoning up Morray's magnificent firepower of MOEC. "I hope it was worth killing my brother, you cowards; I will never forgive, as they say I should, and I most certainly will never forget. For valiant William I sin and offer you only wrath. Well fought, then, and I'll see you in hell."

Heads everywhere turned in amazement as MOEC launched its fourth assault since the battle had begun, for Erik was heartlessly obliterating the last of the two Venomian battleships with ease. Far away to the west Morray looked up in grim appreciation, but the expression changed to one of horror as he viewed Erik's uncaring face. Bill and Katt exchanged a concerned glance through the G-Diffuser screen, for while they were pleased with the destruction of the IC-Two they could not dismiss feelings of sorrow for Erik. Shouting orders rapidly to his followers General Pepper's Vortex Four at last broke through an opening and into firing range of the enemy defense station.

Despite the wreckage a roar went up among the Venomian forces; Bill glanced back, and his heart plummeted.

The four spacecraft of the Star Wolf mercenaries spiraled fearlessly into view, a specter of doom that would soon befall them all.

"You can't win, Pepper!" shrieked Wolf O'Donnel, eye shining with some inner obsession. "You'll never take Lylat from Andross! He'll annihilate Celestra, Fox, and Anilora, and then he'll KILL YOU ALL!! Who now will stand against us?"

"I will," murmured Sensenic Morray, and Wolf was so shocked that someone had accepted his challenge that he had no retort. "I will if I must face all four of you alone."

Again Bill and Katt shared a glance before the assassin added, "Let's see what ya make o' the three o' us, O'Donnel!"

But it was Erik Nioxin, still with the fires of vengeance simmering in his eyes, that surprised them all. "You four are responsible for what's happened to Celestra, Gilraen, and Fox; I won't let anything happen to my friends anymore. So here I come, respectable Mr. O'Donnel--I hope you're ready for me."

* * *

Celestra pushed herself up onto her elbows, pupils straining to take in some shred of light in the pitch-black chamber. Her smartest bet was to search for the twin red lights that were Andross's eyes, but whether by closing them or hiding he had eliminated that possibility. She could feel Fox's rapid breathing upon her cheek, hot and desperate for some assurance their enemy was still near, but nothing could be seen or heard. The assassin fumbled about her belt for the pair of deadly switchblades; there was no use in blindly searching for her blasters, for even if she found them she could not hope to shoot well in the dark.

"Just because we can't see you doesn't mean we won't find you," Celestra promised poisonously, and with a soft groan of discomfort she rose, pulling the mercenary leader along with her.

For barely an instant Celestra glimpsed a flash of turquoise, just enough of a warning for the muscles in her legs to tense before a bolt like lightning sparked in her direction. With impeccable reflexes she dove, but although she sprang wide of the blast she ran straight into a wall. Fox called for her to duck, and she sprawled out flat on the floor just as an energy sphere lanced from the barrel of his plasma rifle. This time the mercenary struck something substantial, but Andross uttered no cry of pain and again they lost him.

'Pull yourself together!' the assassin inwardly berated herself. 'Fox needs you to concentrate, so quit with the nervous breakdowns.' Stumbling forward she started feeling about again, trying to locate some semblance of direction in the darkness. Another beam fired, glancing the wall next to her and inciting a meager shower of sparks, and an idea flitted through her mind as she again continued on.

Andross could see clearly whatever the amount of light, that was certain; to tip the tables back in their favor they needed to be able see. Fox and Andross were trading shots now, momentarily drawing the attention away from her. Squinting in concentration she hypothesized Andross's location, and with a running leap she dove and collided with the Venomian lord. She judged she was clinging to his back; before he could grab her she clung to him and stabbed with one knife with all her might, shouting, "Fox! Shoot the walls! Light the torches!"

The blade was tearing through Andross's bulging deltoid muscle; he howled in rage and swiped at her, grabbing fistfuls of hair in an attempt to throw her off. Fox hefted the plasma rifle and blindly let loose a terrible barrage, ducking his head as the shots ricocheted from the walls, but he was still firing without any real aim and Celestra couldn't hold on much longer.

Andross's crude fingernails clawed down the side of Celestra's face; she shrieked in agony, and he at last snatched her forearm and hurled her away with all his strength. Balls of plasma were flying all about as the assassin again crumpled to the floor in a heap, and although she couldn't see him she sensed Andross stalking toward her. Had she not been slouched nearly to the point of reclining she may have been struck by Fox's next desperate volley; sparks flew, and the wall sconce just over her head crackled and roared with flame.

The Venomian lord was towering over her, poised to kill; Celestra lunged up and forward, plunging one of her switchblades into his abdominal region. Regaining her footing she leapt in close within his arms and tore into him with the other blade; behind them, Fox zeroed in on his target and let loose a barrage that repeatedly struck Andross in the back. He was trapped between them; Celestra twisted her weapons brutally into his stomach, and he shuddered and slumped over her, motionless.

With a grunt of effort the assassin shoved him to the floor, limping in Fox's direction and frantically wiping Andross's blood off her face. They surveyed him together, too frightened to be certain he wasn't breathing anymore; Celestra tucked her switchblades back into their sheaths on her utility belt.

"Do you think he's dead?" Fox asked quietly, and his voice quavered with anticipation.

Celestra grimaced and ventured one step forward, absently rubbing the back of her head where Andross had attempted to rip out hair. "I wish it were that easy, but something tells me he's not." Her cheek stung from the clawlike scratches; they advanced, hearts racing, eyes wide, mouths dry with fear.

They never even got close.

Andross's mangled body stirred, causing the two intruders to halt in sheer terror; soundlessly he rose, blood tracing the creases of smooth black skin over taut muscle, and although he had suffered excruciating wounds he was very much alive. As they watched the numerous trickles of crimson ceased to flow, replaced by unmarred ebony skin until his body showed not a single scar from the deadly assault. Fox and Celestra could no longer keep from trembling as Andross smirked at them and absently shifted his humerus bone back into its shoulder joint.

"My, my," he rumbled softly. "We are in trouble."

Before either of them could react a crushing force constricted around their necks, squeezing the oxygen from them and making it impossible to draw breath. Celestra's hands flew to her neck but there was nothing to grasp, just empty air and her own flesh. She thought for a fleeting moment to move for her weapons, but without something corporeal to attack she would only be slitting her own throat. Andross was watching their struggles with amusement and delight, one hand outstretched toward them in a telekinetic ruse to choke them to death.

The toe of Celestra's boot nudged something on the tiled floor at her feet; squinting down she saw one of the handheld plasma lasers that had been thrown from her grasp earlier. Consciousness dwindling, hopes failing, the assassin hooked her toe beneath the weapon and flicked it upward into her waiting hands. Shaking, she leveled the gun at her adversary's outstretched hand and pulled the trigger.

The shot was perfect under the intense pressure, striking the pale blue gem in the palm of his hand and shattering it like fragile glass. For the first time since the start of the confrontation Andross howled in agonized fury, clutching the broken diamond and shaking the walls under the sheer volume of his cry. In his loss of concentration, though, he could no longer exert his power on them, and they leaned against one another as they gasped for breath.

"So . . . that's how . . . we hurt him," Fox panted, the plasma rifle dangling limply in his hands.

Celestra sheathed her guns again, bracing her hands on her knees and doubling over. "Looks that way."

Andross straightened, hatred simmering in his ruby eyes, and Celestra and Fox shrank back; wrathfully he advanced and they knew the battle was far from over.

* * *

"Looks like we found our rogue envoy, boys," Falco informed his fellow mercenaries, and they slowed their advance to a hover.

Working quickly but efficiently Slippy summoned a detailed status grid of the single spacecraft in question. "It's listed as a transport ship, pretty outdated, and it looks suspicious skirting around by itself because its shields and weapons are several years out-of-date. Anilora is probably aboard, so we've got to move fast."

"I recommend at least some half-hearted negotiations before we open fire on them," Peppy suggested. "Anilora's life is at stake here."

Falco's beak wrinkled in irritation, clearly conveying his disgust, but he waved one hand in acceptance and Peppy booted up his G-Diffuser. "This is the mercenary unit Star Fox; shut down your engines and weapons and allow us to board peaceably, and no one aboard will be hurt."

A moment's silence came over the radio, and then came a man's voice in sarcastic reply: "Well met, mercenary unit Star Fox--move aside and let us continue, or meet a swift end."

"We don't negotiate with Seperatists," Falco muttered, running a hand down his face. "This is exactly why." Motioning to his two companions he continued aloud, "I'm afraid we can't do that; at least, not while Captain Anilora is in your company. Open fire."

This last was directed at his fellow mercenaries, who had been spreading out into a wide attack formation since Falco's signal. Now they attacked strategically, aiming only for the engines of the envoy until they sputtered in protest and died. Slippy set to scrambling the ships' weakening signals, simultaneously dispelling the defensive shields and opening three hangars leading into the small docking bay.

"Let's get going," Falco ordered, and they slowly descended upon the motionless envoy.

The three mercenaries landed in an empty docking bay, ensuring they all possessed the weapons they would need, and cautiously they started off down the hall to rescue the Katinan captain. The hallways were similarly devoid of life; all was silent as death, and a lump of anxiety rose up in Falco's throat as he realized what that might mean.

Peppy could translate most Venomian runes, quicking putting them on the trail to prisoners' cells, and because of him they could navigate a route that led them away from the busier areas of the transport ship, such as the control room and the weapons bay. They were nearly there and congratulating one another on a successful rescue mission when they rounded their third corner and found themselves face-to-face with a hulking elk-Venomian, brandishing a rusted and slightly bloody length of barbed wire.

"Well met, mercenaries," Rhazed acknowledged, crossing his arms over his burly chest with a smirk. "If you want to get any further, you're gonna have to make it past me."

"Anybody ever tell you that that thing could give somebody tetanus?" Falco accused, gesturing to the barbed wire in Rhazed's hands.

"I'd be worried about your little friend, then, if that's the case," Rhazed replied airily, and the three mercenaries bristled at the remark.

"He'd better be alive," Peppy warned, and Rhazed merely shrugged. Falco growled in rage, starting forward with murder in his eyes, but Slippy threw an arm out, barring his way.

"Let me handle it," Slippy said flatly. "I owe it to Keil . . . for what he did for me."

Falco and Peppy exchanged a glance, and with a nod to the youngest mercenary they sprinted off toward the prison cells. Rhazed and Slippy steadily began circling each other, the former clutching his weapon with a confidently superior smirk touching his face, the latter with hands dangling at his sides and something like uncaring emptiness filling his eyes. Rhazed became quickly annoyed with the lack of battle, however, launching into an offensive sequence that sent his barbed wire cracking down like a whip. Slippy lightly side-stepped the sudden attack, coming out wide and out of immediate range; the wire snapped in a horizontal arc that would have taken him out at the knees if he hadn't hopped nimbly over it. The elk-Venomian scowled, lashing out again; Slippy dodged that strike as well, all weapons still in place on his belt.

Rhazed was attacking seriously now, coming at him with a low diagonal sweep that presented Slippy with a fabulous opportunity. As the wire came down and across the youngest mercenary stepped inside, too close for any counterstrike, and swiftly drew out Keil's cyanide blaster. With no chance to move away, his adversary took the shot from point-blank range--right in the face.

Sputtering curses Rhazed rubbed at his eyes, and only five seconds later he was coughing up great mouthfuls of bright blood. Footsteps echoed down the hall, announcing the return of his fellow mercenaries, and Slippy stepped away, re-sheathing the weapon and surveying his enemy without remorse. Rhazed clutched at his chest, wheezing and gasping out, "What have you done to me?!"

"Don't torture others if you can't handle it," Slippy spat venomously, and he led the others away down the hall, leaving Rhazed to a slow and painful death.

"That was easy," Falco remarked off-handedly. He was carrying an unconscious Anilora, whom they had never seen look worse. His chin was swollen and bruised from Rhazed's beatings, and wicked, bloody tears marred his chest and the outside of one leg. These wounds had become mildly inflamed and already seemed infected. "If we don't get him to some medics soon, he won't make it."

"The nearest hospital bay is on Vortex Four, back at the Venomian defense station," Peppy told them gravely. "He can't last that long like this."

They had reached the docking bay; Slippy eyed the single-man Venomian fighter he had hijacked from Bolse contemptuously before saying, "Put him in the back of your Arwing, Falco, and I'll work on him until we catch up witht he fleet. I don't want to be seen flying this piece of junk anyway," he added, and he spat on the craft's left flank and turned his back on it.

Upon ejecting from the envoy's docking bay Falco and Peppy opened fire on it, downing it for good before heading back toward Area 6. In the back of the avian's spacecraft Slippy set to cleaning Anilora's wounds at once, heating a small knife with a low frequency shot from his fire blaster and using the high temperature to lance the barbed wire gashes and clear out the infectious material. Ice was applied to the violet bruise, and all of Falco's stored bandages were used up by the end; through it all the Katinan captain never stirred.

It was over half an hour to Area 6; Slippy wondered if Anilora would make it.

* * *

Another hazy spiral beam seared against the onyx throne, and Fox winced and gripped the rifle more tightly. In this particular room Andross's ornate chair served as the only cover; he had no idea where Celestra was, or even if she was alright. His main concern was if the throne gave, he would be running about exposed. He could hear the high-pitched tones of Celestra's lasers wailing away through the dank air, seeking Andross; he wondered vaguely how the battle was faring while he sat back, cowering like a little lost child.

Onyx flaked away from the next assault on his hiding place, and swallowing a lump of intense fear Fox rolled out into plain view and took aim.

Celestra darted by, guns extended behind her as she sprinted away from their deadly adversary and on past Fox. There was now a hideous tear in the skin of her left shoulder, trickling blood down her arm; the wound was deep and perhaps mortal, yet she was still on her feet and the dangerous fire remained burning in the depths of her icy blue eyes. The sight of the assassin, still battling despite the injury, ignited a feeling of purest recklessness within his chest; the mercenary leader squeezed the trigger, barring Andross's path to Celestra. The Venomian lord cursed and fired at Fox with the only remaining gemstone in the palm of his hand. Unable to move quickly enough he stoically took the blow square in the chest, tumbling backward and banging the back of his head on the tyrant's throne.

Andross was swooping down upon him in an instant, firing again but not before Fox got his rifle up in a blocking position. The maneuver did serve its purpose; the weapon saved his life, but a moment later he was cleverly disarmed and helpless at Andross's feet.

Celestra fearlessly leapt back in, concealing Fox behind her as she repeatedly fired, but this time every single energy bullet froze in midair as if the air were below zero. With an almost casual flick of his wrist Andross sent the bullets whizzing back at their owner at a speed twice as fast. Blood spattered on Fox, but it wasn't his; he glanced up just in time to catch a limp and quivering Celestra. Held fast by her weight the mercenary couldn't retaliate, and obviously she couldn't rise again without help.

Chuckling in satisfaction Andross bent double, snagging the tatters of Celestra's flight vest and hauling her to her feet. Weakly she batted at his arm but he didn't relent for a moment, at last swinging her around in a great circle and hurling her across the room like a rag doll. With a sickening crunch she hit the wall opposite them and slid down it to land in a heap on the floor.

Fox prayed with all his might for the assassin to get up or show some sign of life; she remained absolutely motionless, and he could not see her breathing at all.

Andross's injured hand darted out and caught the mercenary leader by the throat, hoisting him high in the air and up to his eye level. He struggled as fiercely as he could, kicking and spitting in a futile effort to free himself; the Venomian lord cackled wickedly and punched him once in the face, and the vain attempts became far more subdued. "Why do you fight it so, Fox? I would have killed you already, quickly and without any fuss whatsoever, but you continue to struggle although you know it is all without merit. Just give in to me; tell me I have won, and you shall die painlessly."

"Never," Fox choked out, no longer fighting back but not resigned to give in yet. "My father died . . . fighting you 'til the end . . . and I owe him the same. So go to hell . . . 'cause this isn't over."

"Very well," Andross acknowledged with a cold scowl. "Then you can join him." Raising his hand he flashed the turquoise gem like a specter of doom in front of Fox's eyes, and the diamond glowed, gathering energy for the killing blow.

Trembling with effort and moaning in pain, Celestra raised her head and gazed blearily in their direction. Andross's back was to her and he clearly wasn't paying her any attention; she knew she had to save her only companion, but she was running out of tricks and none of them seemed to work against their powerful adversary. Celestra didn't think she could get up again, not with blood still flowing from dozens of laser-hole wounds, and she glanced about for something, anything, to keep them from death.

Her weary eyes fell upon the single lit wall sconce overhead, flickering with flame, and the strewn tatters of her ruined flight vest just beneath it.

With shaking hands the assassin fumbled for one of the switchblades on her belt, contemplating the move. The throw had to be absolutely perfect, with enough force to knock the tray from the sconce and the correct angle to hit it in such a way that it fell upon the torn fabric. She had no other weapons; if she failed, their lives would end.

Celestra sucked in a shallow breath and threw.

The knife struck the bottom corner of the sconce, rattling the tray and knocking it loose. Her eyes followed it all the way to the floor, where it clattering among strips of cloth, adn the pile caught fire. Celestra slumped back to the floor as the chamber slowly burst into flame.

With a roar Andross discarded Fox to the floor, turning to face Celestra and the growing blaze. The double doors at the entrance to the throne room were made of wood, but at the moment that was not his main concern. There was a small wooden box at the foot of his throne, and inside he kept a decent number of corked wine bottles; Celestra had obviously guessed its contents, for she was slowly crawling toward it. Cursing violently he took one step forward to intercept her and found he couldn't move any further.

Fox was clinging to Andross's olive cape with every bit of strength he could muster, growling through tightly clenched teeth and bracing his boots against the floor as he pulled. Andross heaved away with all his strength, but Fox proved impossible to throw off so easily and contented himself with being dragged along. Swinging the rifle around with one hand the mercenary leader aimed awkwardly and fired a few haphazard shots that struck Andross in the back of the legs, slowing him down considerably.

The female assassin reached the box, pulling the lid off and tipping it over. Several bottles rolled away across the tiled floor, feeding the inferno; others she uncorked and spilled the contents all around, slicking the entire floor down with potent and highly flammable alcohol. The temperature in the throne room skyrocketed; Andross slipped and stumbled on the slick surface, and Fox took aim and fired, smashing the second gemstone in their enemy's palm. Taking advantage of the Venomian lord's pain, Fox skittered to Celestra's side and heaved her unceremoniously to her feet.

"We've got to get out of here, now!" he shouted over the crackling of the fire.

Celestra shook her head, clutching her only switchblade in a desperate attempt to stay conscious. "Not yet. We came here to do a job--we've got to finish it once and for all, leaving no question that Andross is dead."

The notion was ridiculous; the pair of them were already on their last legs and clearly fading fast. Fox opened his mouth to argue, but Celestra interrupted him as forcefully as she could, saying, "I swore to them we would fight, to the end of Andross or life itself! I will not run away, not when we are this close!"

Steeling his jaw Fox flung one arm around Celestra, supporting her as much as he could, and together they stalked forward toward Andross in the final exchange.

* * *

Erik Nioxin's Arwing joined the other three substitute mercenaries, and at Bill's command they paired off with their adversaries and the battle was on. With Star Wolf on the rampage the assault on the defense station weakened considerably, limited to anyone who was bold enough to take charge; Vortex Four, Whitewater, and FrigidFire continued beating down the Venomian cruisers, a simpler task now that both Interstellar Commanders were eliminated from the battlefield. The defense station itself was down to half its shield energy, but without the better pilots in the fleet it was questionable if they could win the day.

Bill and Wolf settled into a cat-and-mouse chase, sweeping great circles around one another, keeping their distance and trading shots cautiously with careful regard to the positions of their comrades. Morray and Leon were drastically more reckless, rapidly closing the space between them and often brushing wingtips, too close to even take shots at one another. Erik and Katt had Pigma and Andrew, respectively, very outclassed, proving better pilots and smarter strategists without question.

"At last! I've got them on radar!" crowed Morray, and he attacked Leon with increased fervor.

"What?" Bill spat in frustration, skirting around Katt and firing a pair of shots that flew just wide of Wolf's spacecraft.

"Falco and Peppy's Arwings!" Morray explained excitedly. "They're heading this way--they must have rescued Captain Anilora!"

"Thank God," muttered Katt.

"It won't make any difference in the end, you fools!" Wolf exclaimed, and his face was contorted and crazed in the G-Diffuser screen. "When Andross kills Celestra and Fox, he'll come to put an end to every single one of you!"

"Are you aware that you're still talking?" Morray asked him, and out of sheer annoyance he planed away from Leon long enough to fire a few shots in Wolf's direction. "Be silent. I have no doubts that Andross will fall this very night."

"How can you be so certain?" Leon put in smoothly, mockingly, as he barrel-rolled after him.

Morray chuckled softly to himself. "Well you see, respectable Mr. Powalski, it is because I have unlimited faith in Celestra and Fox--as do we all."

* * *

With the twin gemstones shattered in his hands Andross was limited to hand-to-hand combat, something he was very unused to from years of torturing his victims with subtle psionic powers. Fox and Celestra advanced slowly, the assassin leaning heavily against the mercenary but still on her feet, the mercenary dragging the battered plasma rifle along behind him. Andross was quickly becoming mentally fatigued, having exhausted a wealth of telekinetics toying with his prey; now that he needed it he found himself very much without it. Fox could prove quite tricky to dispose of by the end, but Celestra already seemed seconds from death and he assumed one good shove into the fire could put her down for good.

The moment Andross's eyes flickered in Celestra's direction, Fox sensed his intent. Shoving Celestra to one side the mercenary dropped to one knee and propped the rifle up against his shoulder, sighting his target down the barrel and firing. Andross made a dive to one side but passed too close to the assassin and accidently exposing his back to her as well. Bracing herself against the floor Celestra lunged, brandishing her knife and successfully severing a hamstring. By some otherworldly power Andross managed to keep his feet, using what remained of his psychic powers to hurl a ball of fire at Celestra, and instead of striking again she was forced to roll away to avoid it.

In attacking Celestra, though, he had neglected Fox; the mercenary added to the deadly knife-thrust by lancing away another shot that doubled the severity of the wound. This time the Venomian lord buckled to the floor, managing at the last moment to avoid falling into a path of flame that woud have easily consumed him. Celestra fell upon him at once, hacking and slicing with all the strength she had left until shreds of skin hung from his bones, and still he found the will and abandon to fling her away and rise defensively.

Fear welled up in Fox's chest at the sight of Andross. There was no rational explanation for how Andross had survived that, so the mercenary did the only thing he could think of--he grasped the gun barrel and swung the weapon like a baseball bat, smashing the butt of the rifle into Andross's face again and again until he fell backward.

Right into slashing range of Celestra and her deadly blade.

The assassin was a great bloody and bruised mess, fighting an impending blackness every second, but she found the courage to push herself up one last time in order to intercept. With a dazzling swiftness she slit his other hamstring, ending his mobility for good. Fox charged up the plasma rifle to its highest energy output and shot again, catching the Venomian lord square in the chest; the force of the blow sent him carreening backward into a great curtain of hungry flame, ending at last the rule of Andross, the Tyrant of Lylat.

There was no time for celebration, for the entire room was ablaze now and they were running out of time to save themselves from a similar fate. Fox knelt and cradled the assassin in his arms, making with all speed for the doors, leaving all their weapons behind.

Just before they reached it the ceiling over the doors caved and reduced them to rubble, sealing off their only exit.

"Damn!" Fox cried, glancing all around anxiously, but no other option presented itself. They were going to die; still cradling Celestra he sank to the floor in defeat.

"It doesn't matter," she told him absently, in a manner that told the mercenary leader she didn't even comprehend what she was telling him. "It's over . . . Andross is gone." At last Celestra fell limp in his arms, unconscious, leaving Fox alone with a maddening, pulsing panic.

"It can't be over," Fox stuttered between gasps. "We'll find a way out, we've just got to have faith . . ."

Looking around the ruined and burning throne room, cradling the prone form of the most courageous person he had ever known, Fox couldn't find any faith.


	25. Chapter Twenty Four: James McCloud

Chapter Twenty-Four: "James McCloud" 

Fox closed his eyes for a moment and hugged Celestra close. This was it--with no way to escape and a fire closing in all around them, only a miracle could save them now. It was all Fox could do to keep breathing without choking on the ash in his nose, and he gagged a few times and wound up coughing through clouds of smoke. Celestra never stirred through all the noise, heat, and Fox's shaking. Sneezing, Fox again opened his eyes.

Something substantial was wavering in the air several feet away; squinting against the thick smoke Fox struggled to discern what it was. At first it only seemed to be a lighter, much less dense patch of ash, but as he looked on it condensed and melted into a real image, one that seemed to resemble a shadowy figure standing in the depths of the fire. The form it took was unbelievably familiar to the mercenary leader, so much so that he wasn't sure if he should burst into laughter or cry as he hadn't cried in years; instead his eyes opened to their widest, oblivious to the stinging he had to endure to even begin to comprehend just who it was standing there before him.

James McCloud, his father.

Fox opened his mouth, but anything he may have thought to say was lost in the wrenching of his heart. He remembered Peppy telling him the tale of his father's valiant death twelve years before, and the difficulty of making his peace with the news that he would no longer have the most important person in his life. For several years he watched helplessly as Peppy and General Pepper suffered under the weight of losing a close and trusted friend. He had grown accustomed to living with no blood relatives--and now here stood the father he thought lost to him forever?

"Father?" Fox breathed incredulously, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing.

James didn't answer, standing motionlessly in the hazy smoke, wreathed in ash like some otherworldly being. Slowly he lifted his arm--something that still seemed less than corporeal--and beckoned to his son calmly, motioning for him to follow. Rising, supporting Celestra carefully, Fox picked his way swiftly through the hazardous room until he was near enough to gaze upon this father clearly. It was as though he was looking in a mirror, so great was the resemblance between them, yet there was something translucent about James that made Fox think that he was imagining things.

Wordlessly his father turned and pointed at Andross's ruined onyx throne; Fox scurried up to study it. There was a small lever on the side, partially concealed by one of the armrests, and Fox didn't hesitate to exert pressure on it until something notable occurred. Across the room a portion of the wall lifted into the ceiling, revealing a hidden staircase spiraling out of sight; James started up, and his son hurried to follow.

* * *

With a start Captain Anilora awoke in near-darkness, laid out comfortably in a small, untidy cargo area. His body ached when he tried to check on his injuries, then became more than a little confused when he realized his wounds had already been dressed. Slowly his eyes cleared as he blinked away a heavy fatigue, and he considered where he could be.

"Oh, you're awake! We were really worried that you wouldn't pull through."

Turning his head Anilora noticed a figure reclining nearby; Slippy leaned forward into the dim light, smiling broadly.

"What's happened?" asked the Katinan groggily, rubbing his dull violet eyes and bracing himself as a headache set in. "Where am I?"

Slippy scooted forward, applying a cool cloth to the captain's forehead and tucking a blanket around him securely. "We're in the back of Falco's Arwing, en route to Area 6, which still holds."

Falco poked his head about the seat, glancing into the tiny cargo area with a smile. "Good to see you alive, Captain! I've never been so happy to see anybody awake and talking in my whole life!"

Anilora sat upright very quickly, fighting nausea. "The defense station still holds? You mean--we still have a chance?!"

"Of course we do!" Slippy exclaimed.

"But what happened on Venom? Does Andross still live? What of Celestra?"

The two mercenaries were silent for a moment, then Falco answered, "The last we saw Celestra had killed Reivin and she and Fox left to find Andross. Wolf and his crew got away; Bill sent us after you, and here we are. No one knows if they're still alive, or even if they found Andross."

Speechless at the news of Reivin's murder, Anilora allowed Slippy to ease him back down into a reclining position, clutching his head in a feeble attempt to ease its throbbing. The end was coming; he could sense it in every world the mercenaries spoke, but what he hesitated to admit to them was the actual irrelevancy of the battle for the defense station. The success of all depended upon the life or death of Andross.

The lives of all depended upon the labors of two brave souls, and all odds were against them.

"How much longer before we reach the station?" asked Anilora, and he seemed to fear the answer.

Squinting ahead Falco could just see a few nondescript blobs flitting against the blackness of space, but he could make out little else. "Peppy, max out the engines and boost your thrusters to the brink--we can be there in five minutes, Captain, just in time for the finale. It looks like Star Wolf beat us there, too; I hope someone can handle them until we arrive."

* * *

"It seems we are reaching the end of our endless line of chances, Wolf," Leon offered smoothly, glancing casually around the battlefield before turning his full attention back to the Arwing of Sensenic Morray. "Be thinking about what we shall do if Andross falls."

Wolf gritted his teeth and chased Bill through an opening, firing hasty shots that weren't even close to hitting their target; he was clearly becoming frustrated. "Andross is not going to fall, Leon, and thinking so is considered blasphemous to the Separatist beliefs."

"Blasphemous to a system that is rapidly crumbling around us. Do try and face reality, Wolf; denial is a terrible quality in an evil mercenary. Unless Andross is truly immortal he has likely been killed already; if he lives, he would have arrived and thrown down this assault an hour ago at the least. If I were you, I would be watching my back for Pigma--he does tend to betray those closest to him when he finds himself on the losing team, you know."

"We haven't lost yet." Wolf wasn't sure why he was still protesting; he knew Leon was correct.

As if sensing his doubts the chameleon chuckled quietly. "Reivin Frost is dead, my friend, and if you don't acknowledge that this war is already over, we will be too."

Bill jostled Wolf's spacecraft with shots; Wolf cursed and shouted, "What would you have me do, Leon? Order the retreat and flee like a coward?"

"Not at all; I would have you order the retreat and flee to pick a better fight at a later date."

The mercenary leader was pondering the suggesting when a familiar voice shouted over the radio: "I'm with him, Wolf; your number's up, and now it's time you paid for everything you've done!"

Two Arwings appeared on the edges of sight, bearing the names MeteoRiot and Nebulafire, and Wolf could almost feel his hopes shrivel at the sight. What occurred next set all the forces of Venom back on their heels, for Captain Anilora's voice rang out, saying, "Form up! All unoccupied cruisers to the station! Attack, all of you, and never relent!"

"It can't be," muttered Wolf hopelessly, but no one could hear him over the cries of joy following Anilora's voice.

Taking advantage of the confusion Morray successfully snuck away from the mercenaries' battle, and Erik slowly followed as they made their way toward FrigidFire. Falco and Peppy swooped in to fill their absences, and Bill and Katt pressed in even harder.

"Where's Celestra?" Bill demanded angrily.

"Back on Venom with Fox!" Falco called in reply. "After she killed Reivin they went looking for Andross!"

Bill reeled in the cockpit of his Arwing at the unexpected news. "Reivin's dead?!"

Wolf and Leon exchanged a grim glance through the G-Diffuser screen, and Wolf offered a grave nod in silent reply. Switching to a private radio channel he ordered, "Pigma, Andrew, withdraw and scatter in any direction. If we want to live it is time to leave; I'll contact you each in a few weeks with further instructions. Keep away from the public and stay out of sight."

The four Star Wolf mercenaries parted way abruptly, saying no good-byes, and none bothered to follow them even for a moment.

"To the station!" was the cry upon every man and woman's lips, and together they fell upon Area 6 Defense Station like a devastating plague. The Venomian force was swiftly dwindling now in the absence of the evil mercenaries; Slippy was shouting out statistics of the strength of the defensive shields, and then the station seemed to groan under the strain of the assault.

FrigidFire snailed forward then, maneuvering to the front of the line of majestic cruisers, and at the helm Sensenic Morray gleefully rubbed his hands together as Erik Nioxin guided the starship on ahead. "Make way!" called the Fortunan commander-in-chief, and as he called for a path to be made Erik prepared the devastating MOEC to fire its next round. "Make way!"

With a negligent wave and a smile General Pepper bid his pilot to let Vortex Four fall back, and FrigidFire took its position and fired until the last line of Venom's defenses was no more than sparkles of dust in space like thousands of concentrated stars.

It was impossible to determine who cried the most ecstatic tears.

* * *

Fox stumbled along the spiral staircase, gasping for air and struggling to keep pace with James. His father still had not uttered a single word, merely continued on his way without pausing once to be certain the mercenary leader was still following. Celestra lay limp in Fox's arms, still unconscious; her blood was soaking through his own clothes and her face, normally slightly pale, had worsened to a deathly shade of white.

Once Fox stubbed his toe and tucked the assassin in close to him as he tripped, landing painfully a few steps down and chancing a glance back. A pale orange light was bathing the stone below him, and a moment later he could hear the hungry, inhuman flames licking their way up the stairs toward them. It didn't make any sense; it couldn't be possible, yet Fox scrambled to find his feet and nearly collided with his father, who was standing serenely a few steps ahead of him and waiting patiently.

"Andross's dying wish is to kill you both," James began slowly, and Fox's eyes widened when he realized his father's voice was possessed of an unearthly echo. "The fire will continue to spread so long as you stand upon Venomian soil. You must leave the planet, and quickly." Without waiting for a reply James turned and started on his way again; with a yelp Fox hurried to keep up.

The flames roared at their heels, leaping to bite at the mercenary leader's boots from time to time and keep him constantly alert. Through it all James scaled the endless staircase without a single complaint, and as Fox studied him he realized something; he himself was already laboring for breath, and James's respiration remained perfectly normal.

Then ahead of them appeared a speck of light, signaling the approach of the outside world, and Fox demanded still more of his aching legs at the flicker of remaining hope. James turned and beckoned him on, smiling with loving encouragement, and as Fox crested the threshhold and stepped into the light he felt almost as if he had transcended the physical world and passed on into heaven.

A trapdoor clanged shut behind them, rescuing them from the immediate wrath of the expired Andross, but Fox harbored no doubts that soon the entire cursed planet would be alive with writhing flames. Laying Celestra out comfortably on the ground he rushed toward his father, arms extended to embrace the man he had presumed dead nearly all of his life.

He passed right through James and tumbled to his knees.

Covered in dirt and fighting tears in his eyes Fox glanced up and whispered hoarsely, "I don't understand. You're here . . . aren't you real?"

With a small smile of admiration James crouched down and said, "I am here, yes, but not in any physical sense, I'm afraid. I came only to aid you in your escape, something I myself did not accomplish twelve years ago."

"So . . ." Fox stifled a sob and met his father's gaze as stoically as he could manage. "You really are . . . ?"

In silent response James slowly raised a hand, bidding Fox to do the same with a glance, and his son's hand passed through his own without any resistance whatsoever. The sob broke Fox's lips, and twin tears trickled from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks as the vision of his father's ghost sighed sadly.

"I am dead, my dearest son," he murmured, and James supposed he would be crying if that was at all possible. "I have been dead these many years."

"But I . . ." Fox angrily wiped away his tears and fought hard to keep his voice from breaking as he looked upon the specter. "I need you in my life, Dad . . ." As he finished his nose caught the resinous scent of something burning, and the look on James's face changed to one of urgency.

"I know you do, son, but now I need you to firm yourself for what you must do." The ghost rose and beckoned Fox to his side as he did so. "Just east of here you will find Bringer of Chaos waiting for you to depart in, but you must go quickly! If you waste any time at all Andross will undoubtedly succeed in destroying you and poor valiant Celestra. The two of you have worked much too hard, have sacrificed far too much--" James swallowed hard and glanced down at the ground before saying, "--to end up like me."

Fox knelt down and scooped the still-unconscious assassin into a strong and supportive grasp in his arms, pausing only to cast a single longing gaze at an image he knew was the only remnant of his father. "I . . . I miss you, Dad . . . I don't know if I can do this without you . . ."

With another fleeting grin the ghost took a small step back, and in that moment he seemed small, frail, and very alone. "You don't have to do this without me, Fox--in these twelve long years I have never once taken my eyes off you." And then the ghost of James McCloud dematerialized, leaving Fox to the final dash that would deliver himself and Celestra from death and make them heroes.

The mercenary leader struck a course east at as fast of a run as he could manage with Celestra's added weight. Flames seemed to spring out of the ground as he passed, devouring the spongey ground he tread on only moments after he had fled. Bringer of Chaos melted out of the mundane flames like a glimmer of sweet hope; somehow Fox quickened his pace, leaping into the cockpit with a yelp as the wild curtains of flame at last spilled onto the planet's surface. The cargo area in the rear of the Fortunan Arwing was more spacious than his was, providing enough room for Celestra to lay comfortably with a fire blanket covering her for warmth, and after hastily fastening the safety restraints he clasped the joysticks and attempted to fire the craft's three engines. Nothing happened.

"Please be joking," Fox pleaded, a slight tremor in his voice, and he urged the engines to start again. He made some progress; a sputter could be heard, and the interior lights flickered on for a moment, but then everything returned to a state of utter uselessness. Outside the flames shot across the surface to meet Bringer of Chaos, dancing up in front of the windshield and licking the flanks, and Fox drew one shaky breath in an attempt to steady himself. If the engines didn't spark successfully this time, they would not make it out alive.

Keeping his father's face fresh in his mind and refusing to give up for Celestra's sake, Fox tried one last time to start the Arwing; the engines gave a great cough of strain but fired, and all around the mercenary leader the craft hummed to life. It rose above the burning surface like a phoenix, wingtips slightly aflame, and when it broke the atmosphere and pressed into the blackness of space all the vitals returned to normal.

Fox released the joysticks adn screamed in delight, throwing his head back in laughter. "We made it! We actually made it out alive, AND we killed Andross!!"

Turning in his seat the vulpine looked back at Celestra. Throughout the entire race from Andross's throne room she had not come to once, and as he watched over her protectively a feeling of guilt shot through his heart. Never once in the battle had she left him to face the Venomian lord alone; she had risked everything to keep him from any serious harm, and if not for her brilliant scheme to set the room ablaze Andross surely would have killed them both.

"I'll get you home safe, Celestra," he promised her prone form. "For everything you've done for me, I won't let this be the end." Toggling the controls he set a course for Area 6, hoping his comrades would still be alive to meet him when he arrived.

* * *

General Pepper was pacing the conference room, adding to the anxiety of Falco, Peppy, Bill, and Katt, who were seated at a table in the center of the room. Sensenic Morray stood beside the door, listening for the sounds of footsteps down the hallway; Bill's face was hidden by his hands, and all the others were silent.

A knock on the door met their ears, and a moment later an escort entered supporting Captain Anilora. He was very alert now; his wounds had been professionally tended to upon his return, and although he had to lean heavily on the soldier and limped visibly it seemed he would recover. After staggering into a seat Anilora bade the soldier to exit, and he glanced up at Pepper gravely. "What news?"

Even as he asked this Slippy entered with Erik in tow. The faces of both were stricken with some unspoken grief; all eyes turned to them, wordlessly pleading for an absolution. Erik cleared his throat solemnly. "It's Venom . . . our sensors show that the planet is completely engulfed in flame. We're not picking up any life-forms."

Bill leapt from his seat, rattling the table, and Falco was only seconds behind him. "That's not right!" exclaimed the Katinan assassin, balling his fists in denial. "Check it again! Keep checkin'!"

Slippy wasn't paying attention to them; Anilora had risen to his feet, shaking, face stunned, and everyone looked over at him in pity. His violet eyes were wide, disbelieving, and he focused on Erik. "That isn't possible. They can't be gone; they can't."

Morray crossed the room, running a hand down his face and swallowing a cry of despair, and he dropped a sympathetic hand on Anilora's shoulder before simply leaving the room.

"I . . . I'm sorry." Erik slumped into a chair next to Katt, who placed her hands over his in comfort. "No one understands the severity of this tragedy better than I, for just hours ago I lost my only brother--" He broke off with a wail and collapsed on the table, sobbing; Slippy slouched against a wall, covering his face with his hands, and Falco thought he heard the youngest mercenary sob Keil's name before he started crying incomprehensively.

"This can't be happening." Anilora's shaking knees failed to support him any longer and he dropped to the floor, bracing his hands on the carpet to keep himself from sprawling out flat. "Celestra and Fox are too strong, too capable to just . . ." Before he could calm himself tears began to flow down his cheeks, and it felt so natural that he let them slip from his eyes almost willingly. "They're not dead."

Bill howled in rage and punched the door so hard several splinters of wood cascaded outward from the point of impact; clutching his throbbing hand he too sank to his knees. "Damn! I should have gone with them; they needed me the most! Celest probably thought I was abandonin' her, just like Reivin did when we were kids--" The Katinan assassin buried his face in his hands and howled in grief.

"It can't end like this," Anilora muttered to himself in despair. "Please, God . . . not like this."

* * *

"Some people would do well to exhaust all of their possibilities before admitting defeat," murmured Morray through tightly clenched teeth. He was jogging to the control room of Vortex Four, jostling soldiers and ship-hands as he went and inticing more than a few crude remarks in protest. Skittering around a corner he brought his fists slamming down on the door barring his passage forward, shouting obscenities until one of the pilots honored his tumult. "Only authorized personnel may enter the control room--Oh! Doctor Morray!" Recognizing the commander-in-chief he stepped aside, holding the door open politely for his superior. "Excuse me, sir, we weren't expecting you."

"I need access to your strongest G-Diffuser system," Morray hastily ordered, crossing the room quickly with the young pilot in tow. "If it is in use, see to it that it becomes available to me in the next half-minute, if you please."

The pilot obliged immediately, leading the Fortunan to the helm and booting up Vortex Four's primary G-Diffuser. Positioning himself in front of the viewing screen Morray exhaled once to steady his voice before saying, "SpiritNova, this is commander-in-chief Sensenic Morray of the Cornerian cruiser Vortex Four. Can you hear me?"

No picture blipped onto the screen, and the audio sensors picked up only static. Undaunted, Morray started over, saying, "Bringer of Chaos, please reply before my veins clog with worry. Is there anyone aboard?"

"Morray?" A great deal of static filled the transmission, but there was no mistaking the voice he heard. "This is Fox! We're okay! We're en route!"

With wide eyes and a hammering heart he tore out of the control room, sprinting back to the briefing room and banging his way inside. Clutching a stitch in his side Morray panted, "Connect with . . . G-Diffuser . . . primary controls . . . now."

General Pepper bounded to the G-Diffuser console and accepted the frequency Morray had started in the control room. "Who is this? State your name and position."

"Hey, General! It's me, Fox!" The battered mercenary leader cracked a smile and waved back at the incredulous faces staring incomprehensibly back at him. "We're about half an hour from you, en route from Venom. I was just about to send you a transmission, but I was a little busy. Celestra's unconscious in the cargo area; she's in bad shape, but I did the best I could. Have at least a handful of medics ready for our arrival, if you could please."

Bill and Falco turned to Morray and tackled him to the floor, crushing him under the weight of their enthusiastic embraces, and the elder Fortunan squealed in an undignified manner before they lost sight of his face completely.

"I don't mean to sound heartless," interrupted Pepper, folding his arms over his chest and drawing Fox's attention back to the primary objective. "What happened to Andross back there?"

A hush fell over the room as even Falco and Bill looked up from their confused and pinned target on the floor, staring nervously at the mercenary leader with bated breath; Fox grinned and couldn't keep joyous tears from welling in his eyes. "It's over . . . he's dead." The tears made their way down his cheeks, and he made no move to stop them. "We've won!"

General Pepper clutched his breast in shock and nearly swooned for the floor before collapsing heavily into a chair; everyone else remained silent and perfectly motionless. Then Erik glanced over at Slippy and they wordlessly fell into a hug, the need for vengeance quite gone from both sets of eyes; Peppy was crying soundlessly to himself, and without any further prompting Bill snorted and burst into laughter. Gradually Falco and Katt joined him, and Morray cried out, "Now, really!" before they smothered him in joy again. Soon the whole room was filled with the disbelieving chuckles so long sublimated in the face of abominable fear. No one's eyes were capable of holding back the overwhelmed tears; they fell over one another in one massive trembling embrace, and suddenly all the long labors of their lives had at last come to fulfillment.

Mopping his face with the back of one hand Morray squirmed out of the giggling and crying mass of his comrades, trying to conserve some dignity by straightening his clothes. Pepper clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "Sensenic . . . spread the word. Let every man on every ship learn the outcome--Andross has fallen at last!" With a smile Morray bowed deeply and exited, offering a salute to Fox before disappearing down the hall.

"I'm moving as fast as I can," Fox offered to them. "No more than twenty-five minutes before touchdown. Over and out."

They all bid him good-bye, and then they fell upon one another again in a subconscious blur of ecstatic disbelief.

* * *

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Bill started across the bridge connecting living quarters to the hospital bay. Anilora had contacted him mere moments before to say that Celestra would live, but she was still in the middle of extensive surgery and was preparing for a minor blood transfusion at that very moment. On the whole the Katinan assassin was still very tired, but his step was considerably lighter than it had been in years. Andross was defeated.

Bill was so immersed in his private thoughts that he bumped into someone as he crossed; turning back to apologize he recognized Fox standing alone, leaning on the banister and gazing wistfully back toward Venom. By the expression on his face it seemed he hadn't noticed Bill at all; curious, the Katinan approached. "Alright there, chum?"

With a start the vulpine glanced up, only just realizing he was no longer by himself. "Oh! Hey, Bill. And yeah . . . I'm fine."

A part of Bill desperately wanted to leave the conversation at that--his best friend was in surgery, after all--but his good nature prompted him to place a comforting hand on the mercenary leader's shoulder. "Come on, now--if there's somethin' on yer mind, give a shout! We're pals, ain't we? Ya can talk to me."

Fox exhaled, seeming miserable, and he said simply, "You'd think I was losing my mind."

"Half the boys here have already lost their minds." Bill's tone was more serious now, understanding that something must be truly wrong. "What's goin' on, Fox?"

He joined the vulpine at the rail, quietly studying the vast expanse of space as he politely waited for his friend to gather his thoughts. Behind them billowed Whitewater, FrigidFire, and the rest of the allied triad; the Zonessians were leading the entourage back toward Corneria, fully a five-day journey if they kep the same pace and neglected hyperspace travel. After several moments Fox heaved another great sigh and muttered, "I saw my dad."

Bill ogled at Fox; he had been prepared to hear several things, but now he was genuinely surprised. "Yer dad?"

"Back there," added the mercenary leader tonelessly. "On Venom. He led us out of the fire . . . up the stairs . . . saved our lives."

Bill didn't know what to say. "Are ya sure?"

"He told me he came to save us." Fox's chin was trembling, and although he seemed determined to keep his voice, even his eyes were shining with emotion. "He said I'd sacrificed too much to end up like him." His knuckles were white on the banister; bitter, defenseless tears were streaming down his face. "He said he'd never once taken his eyes off me, not once in twelve years." Shoulders heaving, Fox's voice broke as he dissolved into tears.

Bill ventured an arm around Fox's shoulders, trying to sort things out before saying anything offensive. "Ya saw the ghost of James? He actually spoke to ya?"

Shuddering, Fox could only nod. Bill smiled.

"Ya know what that means? It means he came back one last time to see ya." At those words Fox looked up quizzically; Bill continued, "When he died he wasn't at peace because Andross lived and ya never made peace with his death. Now that Andross is gone, he can move on and have a good afterlife."

"You mean I'll never see him again," Fox countered glumly.

Bill laughed. "Ya think the people we love ever really leave us? When he died, did ya ever expect to see him after that? James is still alive in ya, Fox, just like Keil will always be with Slippy and William will always be with Erik. The people we care about most hang around with us until the day we die, and even then we don't really die . . ." Bill smiled at Fox. "We join 'em."

Fox wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, seeming at last to comprehend. "Do you think that's how it really is? That it's never really over?"

"I sure do." Bill moved away a bit, respecting Fox's dignity. "And ya know, she'll never admit it out loud, but Celest is really donna miss Reivin for awhile. To her, he's still the kid we went to flight academy with, and when she dies, that's the kind of person she'll see in him forever."

Fox nodded and turned back to the railing, something warm like acceptance shining through the mist in his eyes. Smiling softly to himself, Bill clapped him once more on the shoulder and strode away for the medical bay.

"Maybe he's right," the mercenary leader murmured to himself, and from a breast pocket he drew out a pair of dirty and cracked flight sunglasses, the very same pair Peppy had given to him all those years ago just after learning of James's fall to Andross. "Maybe I should have let go of you a long time ago, and let you rest in peace like you deserve. I was selfish to think only of how I felt without you--everyone else misses you too, but . . . I can't keep you to myself anymore, can I?"

Carefully he tucked the precious keepsake back into his flight jacket and looked once more to the distant surface of Venom. It was time for him to start over.

"Thanks from the bottom of my heart, Dad," he whispered to the heavens with a smile. "Until next time."


	26. Chapter Twenty Five: New Beginnings

Chapter Twenty-Five: "New Beginnings" 

The day came when the streets of K'yorin, the capital city of Corneria, came alive with the jubilant cries and carefree dancing of citizens of every race; it was almost as though the heavens themselves could sense the cheer in the air, pouring forth a wealth of glorious sunlight with no thought of cloud. Voices rang out everywhere in greeting or in song as the innumerable mass of people pressed on through the steets of the inner city, seeking the source of the celebration. Throngs of people filtered into an enclosed area surrounded by great blooming akrila trees, carpeting the grass with pink and red petals, and it was here that they found the general of all the free peoples of the Lylat System, Aronius Pepper.

"Welcome, citizens of Lylat! Gather around, and we will begin shortly."

Flanking him on the right was Gilraen Anilora, the People's Captain, seeming magnificent in a flowing cape of violet and silver, and now, weeks later, the bruise was quite gone from his handsome face. On Pepper's left stood clever Fortunan commander-in-chief Sensenic Morray, smiling to himself, arms behind his back in a gesture of feigned innocence, and a luridly bright pink blossom had alighted comically on the wide brim of his black hat.

Then up through the swarming group buzzed an excited whisper of some wonderful thing to come and they voluntarily parted; through the aisle created by the movement moved the four mercenaries of Star Fox, each seeming more wise and majestic today than they had ever been. Fox was wearing a recreated replica of James's glasses, and the memory sparked his brighest smile; Falco towered over his wingmates, Peppy tottered beside him, waving at everyone in sight, and Slippy came last, dressed all in Zonessian attire. Then came the other heads of the Arspace Divisions, Katt leading and wearing a very non-traditional black to honor Keil Ford's passing. Last of all Bill strode in alone, grinning up at Anilora, amber cape and boots glimmering in the playful spring sunlight. They assembled and allowed the crowd to cluster nearer before Pepper spoke again.

"Today we gather to celebrate the death of Andross and the fall of the Venomian Separatist regime that has so long threatened our way of life. The road has been long and treacherous for all of us, lasting nearly thirteen years, but I am confident in assuring all of you that peace will follow for many more." Applause rolled up from all sides, and clearing his throat politely Anilora stepped forward to continue.

"Very soon we must all begin the task of rebuilding. Much of what we once knew has been greatly jeopardized by ongoing war, but now that its end has come we must all concentrate on working alongside one another. There is so much left to be done that we can only succeed by working together, but I assure you that at reconstructions' end we can begin to grow and prosper as a united galaxy and no longer as mere planets or races."

Cheering rent the air, and with a dashing tip of his hat Morray motioned for silence. "Taking precedence over all of these, however, is the mourning ceremony to be held later tonight on the city outskirts. Many special lives were taken from all of us in the duration of the war, and tonight we will be having a candelight session open to all. The five divisions of Arspace will be sponsoring a fundraiser during the ceremony, and all proceeds will further the erection of a wall honoring each life lost in the war. Everyone who wishes to attend, you are very welcome."

General Pepper motioned for the mercenaries and the others near them to approach, and they all noticed his arms were laden with medals. "And now I believe I have some honors of my own to award, for you see, without the following people my term as Loyalist General would have ended in failure.

"Katt Monroe, for stoically reclaiming Arspace Division Three in the face of unspoken peril.

"Peppy Hare, for fearlessly leading a rescue attempt across the deserts of Titania.

"Slippy Toad, for infiltration into Bolse Defense Outpost and eradication of all its defenses.

"Falco Lombardi, for destruction of a devastating bio-weapon in the depths of the Solar nebula.

"Fox McCloud, for spearheading the assault against Andross.

"Bill Grey, for eradicating a Venomian mothership single-handedly, and for leading others against Star Wolf at Area 6 when help was needed most.

"Sensenic Morray." More than a few spirited chuckles could be heard at the eccentric Fortunan's approach, for he was clad in high black boots and a sweeping turquoise cape lined with frilly tafetta; the hat could be seen from anywhere. "My commander-in-chief, for countless acts of undisputed intelligence and brilliant strategic technique in battle." Upon accepting his medal Morray swept off his hat and bowed so low his nose nearly brushed the ground.

"Gilraen Anilora." At last the pair stood face-to-face, smiling warmly at each other, and tears formed at the corners of their eyes as they clasped hands in sincere gratitude and respect. "My valiant captain, and in every way my better. If not for your genius, valor, and wit, I would never have succeeded, my greatest of friends, but above all it is your heart that I admire the most; that deciding factor that never once led us astray. Today--I bow to you." And among many gasps of surprise and admiration General Pepper stooped long and low before Anilora, straightening once more and embracing the Katinan like a brother.

"There is one more person who should be recognized, who perhaps above all deserves to stand before you in glory, but regrettably she is not in attendance--"

"I'm here, General," rang out a female voice from the back of the crowd, and all eyes fell upon the Macbethian assassin Celestra Marquette. She seemed more beautiful than she had ever been, even though nothing had changed; she still wore the magical boots and the black flight gear, but she also donned a great flowing cloak the likes of which they had never seen. It was swirled with the red of Cornerian, amber of Katina, pale blue of Fortuna, navy blue of Aquas, dark green of Zoness, and magenta of Macbeth, and embroidered in the center of it all was the silver bold word 'Lylat'. She made her way forward, still limping even after a few weeks of recovery, but even despite that fact the light of her smile could still combat that of the nebula's rays.

"I'm here," she repeated when she had reached the front, and she and Pepper warmly shook hands. "Just a little late."

Right there, before thousands of people, the general of all Lylat sank to one knee, bowing his head humbly. "Celestra Marquette, I would never have the time nor eloquence to list all of your amazing accomplishments, but I will appreciate you and your efforts with all my heart until my very last breath.

"For you, Celestra. For all you have done to make this galaxy free; for all you have sacrificed, and for all you will undoubtedly do in the future. Thank you--from all of Lylat's citizens."

* * *

On the outskirts of K'yorin was a beautiful city park that was formerly used for the yearly festival before the war had begun, a nice wooden area with patches of clearing here and there where children used to play games. In the lowest boughs of the trees hung glass lanterns alive with flickering candles, marking the boudaries for the mourning ceremony, and everyone who came through was given a candle in honor of the lives taken by the Separatist regime. Celestra walked in with Bill, she wearing a simple black dress and he in khakis and a black sweater, and after accepting their candles from a few technicians from Arspace they proceeded into the woods.

Bill left early to speak with a few friends of his, leaving the female assassin to wander alone among the trees. People were grouped in pairs or threes everywhere, some hugging, others crying, but strangest of all Celestra spied a figure standing alone on the edge of the trees in shadow. Curiously she approached until she noticed a familiar wide-brimmed hat, and Sensenic Morray turned to face her.

"Oh! Good evening, Miss Marquette." The Fortunan tipped his hat to her, but it was without his usual flair and gusto. The jovial and mischievious glimmer in his eyes was absent in the candlelight, and he too wore all black.

"Mr. Morray." Although they didn't know one another very well at all Celestra found herself very hesitant to leave him by himself. "Are you alright? Why are you standing out here all alone?"

He offered a small smile at the question, but it was twisted and obviously forced. "Everyone prefers to grieve in their own way, I suppose, and Erik hasn't wished to speak with me about William's death since it . . . occurred. And so I find myself here alone as he deals with his sorrow, and I am reminded of how dearly I loved the poor boy myself." Morray's eyes glimmered in the light of a nearby lantern, and an added sparkle told the assassin that he was very near tears. "I wonder, would you walk with me? I am in desperate need of company tonight."

Like a true gentleman he offered her an arm, and with a nod she accepted it, letting him lead her slowly away from the crowds. They did not speak for many minutes, Morray seeming to mull things over and Celestra respecting his privacy and letting him. Gradually the lights became scarce, and he stopped near a dimly-lit clearing to gaze wistfully and longingly up at the faint stars.

"Have you ever lost anyone close to you?" he asked queitly, scanning the sky with a little sigh.

"Yes." Celestra's voice, too, was soft, as though she was afraid to disturb the stillness of the air itself. "When I was a child, and Andross first came for Macbeth. My mother and father were killed in the initial assault as I escaped; to my knowledge I have no living blood relatives."

"How long did you grieve for them? How did you carry on, a child with no family?"

"I have family," she corrected, and he looked down at her curiously, not understanding. "Peppy and the general practically raised me in this city, and ever since I can remember Bill has been like a brother to me. Reivin was, too--at least, before the Separatists rose. The trick to getting over the loss is to surround yourself with people that care about you; I still miss my parents sometimes, but I have some very wonderful people always around when I need them most. You'll always miss William, and the feeling of loss never really goes away completely, but it lessens with time and love from others."

Morray's head drooped as he studied the dark ground underfoot. "I do so miss him. I've never had any children of my own, you see, but I loved him as if he shared my blood. I would have given my own life to see him survive, would still give it willingly, if I knew it would change things."

Celestra felt a pang of sympathy for the man, even though this was the first time they had ever really spoken; slowly she slipped one of her hands into his, and after a moment he tightened his grip on it for comfort. They stood together quietly, gazing into the dim candlelight, seeming very far removed from the current place and time. Suddenly the assassin was truly seeing him for the first time, and she realized they had more in common than they knew.

"You've never had any children of your own?" she asked skeptically, finding it surprising that a man as handsome and charming as Sensenic Morray had not yet started a family of his own. "Aren't you married?"

Morray chuckled to himself. "No, I'm afraid I am not. The serious relationships I have been fortunate to have in the past are few and far between, I must admit."

Celestra frowned. "How old are you?"

He smiled and looked over at her; his eyes were a deep and magnificent shade of blue. "I'll be thirty at the end of the summer, my dear." The moment seemed awkward after that, and they fell silent again. The moon was rising through the trees, casting a more silvery glow upon the park grounds, and Morray said, "Do you know, I don't think I shall stay much longer."

"That's alright. I didn't even expect to see you here tonight."

"No, that's not it at all; I meant that I shan't remain on Corneria much longer." Celestra glanced up at him curiously. "Well, think of it. I left the fourth division of Arspace under the supervision of a trusted colleague of mine nearly five years ago while I headed the Fortunan-Aquan alliance. I do think I should be getting back to my home--where I belong."

"I've actually been thinking about taking off myself." Celestra sighed and closed her eyes. "Now that the war is over and it's time for reconstruction, I'll have to leave for awhile to restock my supplies. Rebuilding a galaxy for me means hunting down all the rogues one-by-one."

Morray looked down at her with a slight frown. "Where will you go next?"

"I have an apartment near the Fortunan mountains. I'll just re-locate until it's time for me to head out again."

"Do you have the funds necessary for that sort of a campaign?" Morray's frown deepened as he considered her. "It could be several months before you are sent out to hunt rogues again. How will you support yourself?"

Celestra opened her mouth to respond but had no real response. "I guess I never really thought about that."

With a resurrected smile on his face Morray slung a playful arm around Celestra's shoulders and pulled her in closer. "I've just had the most marvelous idea! You should come with me!"

"What?!" The assassin balked at the suggestion and tried to squirm away, but the Fortunan pinned her to his side and even ruffled her hair a bit with the knuckles of his other hand. "Are you insane? I barely know you!"

"Ah, but you see, that's the beauty of the entire process! I own Arspace Division Four, and it would take me little more than ten seconds to get you a job, any department you want. Besides, you would be doing me a fantastic favor in keeping my mind off things." Morray turned fully to face her, seeming excited, and she could tell he was putting himself on the line with the entire plan. "Erik has already made it clear that he wishes to remain in K'yorin for the time being, and I do so despise the thought of being alone. Does it sound so ridiculous, after all?"

Celestra studied him carefully for a moment. She had to admit the entire process sounded desirable; she would have a steady and enjoyable job until Pepper shipped her off again, and she would be within close range of a city she knew rather well. She also admitted to herself that she despised the pained look in Morray's eyes, and he was an interesting and pleasant man whom so far she enjoyed talking to. The city in which Arspace Division Four was situated was the same city she would be living in; they had the same destination in mind anyway, so it wasn't as though he was inconveniencing her.

"You know what?" she began after a moment's contemplation. "I think I'll do it."

Morray's eyes lit up in excitement and gratitude. "There is no end to your kindness!" With that he swept off his hat and dipped into an extravagant bow, coming up to clap her appreciatively on the shoulder. "You won't regret this for a moment."

* * *

It was the following morning and Slippy was almost packed, glancing around the now hollow enclosed quarters that had been his room aboard the Great Fox for the past eight months with something like quiet sadness rimming his eyes. The bed was neatly made, a feat that never occurred where the youngest mercenary was concerned; all of his technology books were stacked in a suitcase by the door, and everything seemed as it had been. There was nothing left to denote that anyone had once called this place home; slinging a duffel bag over one shoulder he turned to leave.

A hesitant knock sounded on the door, and upon answering it Slippy was mildly surprised to see Erik Nioxin standing there. He seemed embarrassed and out-of-place, but Slippy was studying him curiously so he cleared his throat and muttered, "I missed you at the ceremony last night."

Feeling slightly affronted Slippy dropped the bag and stood away from the door to let the older man in. "Yeah . . . I didn't feel much like going. I had . . . packing to do."

"Oh." Erik shoved his hands in his pockets and produced a single, unlit candle. "Well, I brought you this; I thought you might like it. It was a very nice ceremony."

"Thanks." He slipped the candle into an overlarge pocket on his cargo pants and hefted the duffel again; after a few moments of awkward silence he added, "Take care of yourself, Erik. If you're ever in inner city K'yorin, look me up." Leaving that as his parting note Slippy started past him and out the door.

Erik was about to follow when his eyes fell upon a small square object sticking out from beneath the bed mattress; extracting it he discovered a floppy disk, suspiciously unlabeled, and he turned back to the door. "Wait! Slippy, you forgot something!"

Slippy poked his head around the door, saw the floppy disk clutched in the Fortunan's hand, and swiped it away with an angry growl. Surprised, Erik asked nervously, "What's on it?"

"I . . . don't know." The mercenary's eyes slipped to the floor, and he seemed uncomfortable. "I got it from Keil . . . just before . . ." He broke off again and swallowed hard. "Look, I just don't know if I can look yet; Keil was really . . . special to me."

Erik ran a hand down his face, surveying Slippy with a great deal of pity, and he slowly approached to drop a sympathetic hand on the youngest mercenary's shoulder. "He left it to you for a reason, Slippy, and he wants you to know what's on it. I know it's difficult for you now--it's difficult for me, as well, having just lost my brother--but you can't shut everything out of your life while you wallow around in misery." Slippy looked up at Erik, fully six inches the arctic fox's junior, and he seemed incredibly hurt by the unexpected outburst. "I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, I just don't think Keil would want you to waste the rest of your life mourning him when he's no longer in pain."

Measuring the weight of his feelings Slippy looked down at the disk. Erik was right; he was wasting time and energy blaming himself for Keil's death. There was still so much to be done that suddenly he felt guilty for moping around for the past three weeks. Cautiously he approached the computer on the desk in the corner, stirring it from dormancy and popping the disk into the C-drive.

Instantly the screen went black and an hourglass materialized, turning over rapidly and spilling sand across the screen until the words KEIL TECHNOLOGICAL ENTERPRISES were clearly legible in its wake. Slippy settled into the swivel chair, genuinely curious as to what was happening; Erik leaned against the back of the chair, similarly entranced. As they watched a small figure of Keil marched into view until he was centered on the dark screen, and he asked, "Password?"

"Oh, great," Slippy muttered darkly. "That's the one thing I definitely don't have."

The computerized figure of Keil snapped to attention at Slippy's voice. "Hey, Slip! Obviously if you're trying to access this disk I'm not around anymore, but toward the end I was putting all the new stuff on with you in mind. For future reference the password is KWEST--you know, Keil, William, Erik, and Slippy Technologies! Clever, eh? Just don't let this hard work go to waste--I spent years of my life throwing all this together."

And then the file opened, pages upon pages of technological information: blueprints for weapons, descriptive essays detailing all their chemical components, diagrams for new models of Arwing, dimensions for the sizes and shapes of new spacecraft; the possibilities were limitless. Slippy's eyes were wide as he perused the screen, shocked, excited, and nervous all at once, and he leaned back into the chair with an incredulous exhale.

"I can't believe this," he breathed. "Do you know what this is, Erik? It's Keil's life's work; everything he ever created or even thought up is all right here!"

"This is unbelievable," Erik gasped out. "Just one thing--what are you going to use it all for?"

Slippy's and Erik's eyes met, and it occurred to Slippy how much they depended on each other already; they were going to need each other in the future, to lean on one another to get through the pain afforded by their loved one's deaths. Slippy realized they had a great deal in common--they were both extremely intelligent, they grieved in the same way, and now here they were with a gold mine of technology at their fingertips.

Slippy and Erik both took in the flashing icon KWEST in the bottom right corner of the screen. It was time to move on, but suddenly it was clear that they could do that together.

Slippy smiled for the first time in weeks.

* * *

"So where are you guys off to?" asked Falco.

Anilora and Bill exchanged a glance and a half-smile. "Back to Katina for now," explained the young captain. "First I have to get the governmental system back on its feet, but after that I'll undoubtedly be traveling constantly to engineer the majority of the reconstruction."

"And the gen'ral is goin' to let me take up a post at the KATI embassy until I get shipped off to hunt Separatist rogues," added Bill. "What about you guys?"

Peppy shrugged. "Back to the Cornerian Flight Academy; technically I'm still teaching advanced engine repair."

Fox and Falco exchanged a glance. "We don't have any long-term plans yet," explained Fox. "We just want a vacation." The five of them shared a laugh at that, and the mercenary leader heaved a bag over one shoulder. "Anyway, we're going to take off now, and I won't bother with a drawn-out goodbye because we'll end up seeing each other soon." Fox shook Anilora's hand as Falco and Bill hugged one another. "So take care of yourselves, boys."

* * *

The Fortunan cruiser Ambassador was completely prepped for take-off when Celestra strode into the Milano air base. A few pilots and technicians were rushing about with final bits of information; in the center of it all stood Sensenic Morray, dressed more normally today all in pale blue Fortunan flight gear. Calling his name the assassin approached, and when she was near he smiled and took one of her bags to lessen the load she carried.

"Thank you again for showing up," he greeted warmly, and he seemed to visibly relax a great deal. "You'll have to forgive me; after our conversation last night I contemplated just what it was I was asking of you, and I worried that perhaps you would become uncomfortable and change your mind. I must admit," he added with a telling grin, "I think I would have."

Celestra chuckled at his last comment and smiled up at him sincerely. "I did think about it quite a bit," she admitted, following as he led her up the boarding ramp and onto the cruiser. "It seemed pretty crazy at first, but the more I thought about it the more plausible it sounded. I'll have a decent job, be able to live in my own apartment, and I'll be near a familiar face."

"I am indeed flattered, Miss Marquette." Grin widening he gestured to an open room. "This room should suffice; it's only a day and a half's worth of normal space travel to Daxter, the city in which we will land on my home planet. Once there I will be certain to deliver you to your apartment straightaway, and afterward give you a tour of Arspace Division Four, if you're feeling up to it."

Celestra discarded her things carelessly on the mattress and Morray led her out again, this time in the direction of the bridge. "I appreciate it; thank you."

"It's no trouble, I assure you." He looked back at her in second thought. "Has your Arwing been re-located to the docking bay?"

"Yes." They paused on the bridge, watching the shiphands scurry about as the cruiser prepared to leave Corneria. "We're taking off soon?"

"The moment we've been granted clearance, yes." Morray glanced over at her once more; her normally steely and resolute gaze seemed somehow distant. "Have you said all your good-byes, my dear?"

Celestra's gaze fell to her hands. "No; it's not really my style. People are used to me disappearing on a regular basis anyway, so I just leave when the time comes."

"And do you find that particular lifestyle favorable?"

She looked up, seeing something far away that he knew his eyes could never take in. Morray saw the pain there, the agony brought on by loneliness as she considered the question, and then the doubt had flown from her eyes. "Sometimes."

Morray nodded; just then a pilot came up behind them and stole their attention. "We've been cleared for lift-off, Doctor; permission to fire the engines and start on our way?"

"Of course. Let's go home."

Celestra and Morray stood side-by-side as the ship jostled slightly and rose from the ground, shooting out of the air base and taking to the sky. In a matter of moments they had exited Cornerian airspace and were soaring through the empty, quiet blackness of space, en route to Fortuna. Seeing the doubts that lingered in her troubled eyes Morray hesitantly placed a hand over one of hers, and when she looked up at him questionably he smiled warmly. "Everything will sort out in the end, Celestra. I can promise you that."

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "How could you possibly know that?"

Morray turned his magnificent, dark blue-eyed gaze to the distant stars with that knowing smile still touching his lips. "I don't; not really. I do know that a few weeks previous I would never have had the courage to propose such an outlandish idea to you as I just did last night, nor believe for even an instant that either you or I would go through with it. It's things of that sort that make me believe that things will sort out; everything happens for a reason, you know." Confidently he tightened his grip on her hand and allowed his grin to broaden in mystery and wonder. "It will all be alright; you will see."

Celestra nodded and followed his gaze out into the open space, breathing in the endless possibilities, feeling as though she had just woken up with a new and exciting life ahead of her. Perhaps Morray was right, she thought to herself, and it would all sort out in the end.

She was beginning to believe that it just might.

* * *

"Come on, Gilraen, let's get goin'!" called Bill from the hallway. "It's almost time for take-off! We're finally goin' home!!"

"In a moment," Anilora murmured calmly, not loud enough for anyone to hear but a response nonetheless. Whitewater was due for departure in only a few minutes and Celestra wasn't answering her G-Diffuser sytem; with a sinking feeling he realized that she may have already left for some unknown location. Turning to gather up the rest of his possessions he spied an envelope sitting on his dresser, bathed in the lamplight; dropping everything he tore it open to find Celestra's familiar handwriting scrawling across the pages.

Gilraen,

I expect by the time you read this I will already be off Corneria. This isn't how I wanted to leave things between us, but I have things to do now that I can't do here.

Do you remember what I said to you, just before the fight at Area 6? I want you to know that just because I have to leave, I truly did mean it. The fact that we're finally sharing the same thoughts and emotions gives me a measure of contentment I haven't felt in years; you're still the voice in the back of my head that guides me along the path to the right choices. When I woke up on Pepper's cruiser and you were there it meant so much to me that I couldn't even tell you.

You'll never know how much I care about you, or how much I appreciate everything that you do for me. I don't think it really matters that we have to go separate ways for now, because every step I take always leads me back to you.

I told Falco good-bye last night, and he didn't take it well. Could you help explain it to him? I don't think he'll ever understand. Be sure to tell Fox, Slippy, and Peppy that I send my thanks for everything they've done for me, and tell Bill I'll be around soon enough.

And you, my greatest of friends; I leave you my deepest sentiments. Thank you for everything you sacrificed with me in mind; I will think of you every day that we are apart. Keep me in your heart always, because even though I could never say it before, I can say it now.

I love you, Gilraen. I'll see you in my dreams.

Celestra

Anilora resolutely brushed a tear from the corner of his eye and carefully folded up the letter, slipping it into a breast pocket very near his quavering heart. He glanced around his room once more, ensuring he had left nothing behind, and gathered his things to join Bill in the hallway. He believed her; he cherished everything she did and every word she said, and he wasn't even sad that she was gone.

Celestra Marquette was never really gone; he carried her with him everywhere he went, for she lived in his very heart. Now at last it was time for him to return home, and even that thought did not incite feelings of regret or loss.

One day she would join him, and from that day forward he would never again be alone.


	27. Epilogue

Epilogue 

Away across the galaxy, far removed from the commencing jubilations afforded to the Loyalists by the war's end, a single small cruiser hovered concealed within the rosy red rings of Titania. The name and serial number had been stripped from the flanks with ease, as though the illegal deed had been expertly performed, and there were no outward signs that this particular craft harbored any ill will for anyone.

An impatient and uneasy Pigma Dengar paced back and forth past his window, snarling at the sight of the second planets' distant surface and muttering violently beneath his breath. Under a very clever disguise he had learned the truth and survived to tell his fellow mercenaries of it--Andross was indeed dead, murdered in his own domain by Fox and Celestra. Just four days ago he had received a private transmission from Wolf telling him to meet with the others at an unused port high in the mountains of Fortuna; now here they were, prisoners in their own ship, waiting to be caught and convicted or die in the deep blackness of space.

Unable to stand the silence any longer Pigma set off stomping down the primary hallway, pausing outside of Andrew's room and glancing inside. Andross's nephew was asleep in a cot in the corner of his living quarters; he already seemed much thinner than he had three weeks ago, as if he was merely wasting away. With a snort of disgust he renewed his path toward the control room.

What was happening to the once proud, unbeatable mercenaries that comprised Star Wolf? They had changed, every one, in the short time that had passed since the end of the second Lylat War; Pigma himself was increasingly more hostile than he had ever been, and Andrew was rarely seen awake. What worried Pigma the most was the coup that seemed to have formed between Wolf and Leon; they almost never left the helm these days--even though they were not piloting the cruiser--and seemed very inclined to speaking together in low voices and hushing up whenever Pigma entered the room.

Everything seemed far too suspicious to Pigma, and he didn't like it at all.

Upon entering the control room Pigma found Wolf lounging in the captain's chair, his boots stacked up on the helm and his hands clasped behind his head in a relaxed pose. Leon was sitting cross-legged on the floor a few feet away, soundlessly meditating. Neither of them noticed Pigma leaning in the doorway, hoping to eavesdrop on any conversation they might have, and sure enough Wolf looked over at Leon and whispered, "You can tell he's getting restless."

Leon lazily opened his eyes, inhaling deeply to conclude his mental exercises, and murmured back, "Clearly he's considering betraying us, just as he did with James McCloud and Peppy Hare. We would do well to stay on a constant alert until he settles down."

Wolf ran a hand down his face, and Pigma felt his blood boil at the commentary--they were undoubtedly talking about him, and clearly they didn't trust him at all. "If we stay out here much longer, he'll go on a killing spree; if we try to go anywhere else, the Loyalists will imprison us in a second. What do we do next?"

"Just as I've been telling you, my old friend--we must wait until an outside opportunity presents itself. You know the Loyalists will become careless soon enough; they've been waiting with heavy hearts for the end of the war, and now that it's arrived they'll let down their guard." Leon stretched out his arms and rose, only to seat himself beside his mercenary leader. "As for Dengar . . . if he chooses to revolt, we will be more than a match for him."

With a growl Pigma leapt into the room, confronting his comrades and trembling with barely contained fury. They surveyed him with no trace of guilt, only a quiet understanding, and it only made him hate them more.

"You think it's over?" he accused menacingly. "Do you really think this is how I'll let things end?"

"Yes," said Leon simply, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "And if you believe for a second that you can change that, you are sadly mistaken."

Pigma's eyes narrowed, glancing back and forth between the two, and his malevolent stare wordlessly promised vengeance.

"It's not over until I say it's over," he promised them, and he turned and stormed from the room.

Wolf and Leon exchanged an uneasy glance.


End file.
